


The Best Affinities

by Caesara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe, Apprentice Harry Potter, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Guardian Severus Snape, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Master Severus Snape, Mentor Severus Snape, Original Character(s), Out of Character Severus Snape, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Some Kind of Special Potions Master Society, Website: Potions and Snitches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesara/pseuds/Caesara
Summary: At Hogwarts, Harry is nothing special. In the summer, he’s free labor in his aunt’s Loan-Out-Unwanted-Nephews-As-Gardeners Business. But Severus, a potions master with a rare gift, recognizes something in Harry that could be trained for greatness. AU.An apprentice!Harry fic featuring special potions magic, healing, and learning to be family.
Comments: 68
Kudos: 364





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m considering taking on an apprentice soon,” Patrick Witherson said, cutting into his pie.

“Really?” Severus asked. He nodded to the waitress who came and refilled his coffee. Patrick had been his friend and colleague for quite some time, since they had begun their masteries the same year, and he couldn’t remember them discussing their own apprentices previously.

“I figure it’s about time,” the man said. He scratched at his black beard and then at the collar of his muggle button-down. “Seven years at Windenbroke. Four years apprenticed. Two years upskilling with Master Drevers. Two years researching. Now going on five years with my own mastery, it seems like something I want to take on,” he said.

“So it does,” Severus agreed, sipping at his drink. For a moment, Severus wondered at how old they had become. They were in a café outside of the city walls of York. With two universities in close proximity, the rest of the café was filled with mostly, he assumed, muggle students, clacking away at their laptops and staring at their handheld telephones. They were the oldest people inside, as far as he could tell, besides the cook.

“Have you had any inquiries?” he asked.

“Nah,” Patrick said, making a face. “None to speak of. I’ve a nephew who has an interest, but he doesn’t seem to embrace all that potion masteries require.”

“Nor does he show an affinity?”

Patrick smiled. “An affinity for sweets. That’s what he has.”

Severus gave a rare chuckle. “The last time I was invited to guest lecture at Hogwarts, Larana mentioned a few Potions students who were doing rather well and had asked about further work in the field.”

“Hmm, I do trust Larana’s judgment,” Patrick said.

Severus nodded. “She has a keen mind for the work and for her students. Pomona, too mentioned a few bright ones.”

“Ah, herbology?” Patrick smiled. “What are my chances of getting an apprentice with a root affinity do you think?”

“Slim,” Severus said, with a smirk. “As root affinities always are.”

Patrick smiled and looked Severus in the eye.

“Not as slim as true healing affinities I’m sure.”

Severus rolled his eyes at the understatement and made a show of stirring at his lukewarm coffee. Patrick forced himself quiet on the matter, as he knew Severus did not appreciate attention for his particular skills. His healing affinity was perhaps the rarest of potion affinities.

Of course all potion masters used potions to heal, but Severus’ deep, natural insight about the body, the tangibility of his connection to others’ bodies through his magic and his potions, his natural talent for predicting and discovering potions’ effect on the body, that was uncommon, to say the least. There hadn’t been a potion master in centuries with an affinity like his.

“I will speak with Pomona and Larana the next time I get the chance,” Patrick said after a few minutes of silence, as they both finished up their meals and drinks.

Severus nodded. “Perhaps I will, too.”

They eventually left the shop and headed to the city walls. The muggles laughably called them “ancient” and praised their condition. The stacked stones brought in tourists from around the country and the world, especially when the daffodils were in bloom. Severus supposed that they might just be tourists as well. After all, the daffodils were why they were here. In the right condition, every part of the flower was useful for various potions. And these flowers on this wall, rained on by a particular amount of mediaeval lead from the Ouse River, had especially potent petals and nutritious roots.

As the two men approached the walls, they were met with the a few hundred yellow daffodils on the grassy slopes before the ancient walls. In the sun, they shone, looking like a bright collage of shaded golden and bright lemon petals. They made their way to a sparser area away from a small crowd and crouched down before the open flowers.

“Good color,” Severus observed to himself, as he petted the stem of one near him.

Patrick was on his knees breathing deeply with his eyes closed and his hands buried in the grass. Severus watched him for a few moments as the man seemed to mediate his energy toward the ground. His eyes opened and he let out a shuddering breath with his smile.

“The roots are in good condition?” Severus asked.

“The roots are singing,” Patrick said, eyes bright.

***************************************

Summer 

****************************************

Having spent the day outside in the sweltering sun with little to protect his arms or neck, Harry was grateful that he finally felt his body cooling down. He hovered his hand over his forearm to feel the residual heat and noticed the small tremble in his fingers and the familiar grit beneath his fingernails.

Outside, beyond the small shelter of Mrs. Thompson’s garden shed, rain had begun to pour from a graying sky, and a light breeze whipped at the trees in the small wooded area behind the row of houses on the street.

Harry settled into the dirt ground of the shed, leaned over, and rested his head on the bulky canvas of his tool bag. He’d only left his first year of Hogwarts behind a week ago, and he was already feeling the toll that his summer job took on his body. Aching joints. Hot sunburn. He was hungrier than he left himself think. His right hip, he could feel, was slipping further out of alignment, causing him to limp. And his hands felt as if they were being consumed by fire almost constantly.

Harry tried not to think of himself as he struggled to find comfort on the ground. He thought of his plants. He thought of what the rain did for them.

Mrs. Thompson, like many of Aunt Petunia’s friends and clients, didn’t appreciate rain. It messed up the pretty arrangement of their mulch. It made the flowers droop. It made it more difficult for them to stand behind Harry and command him, as if they knew what the plants needed more than he.

But rain was good. Better than good, it was essential. Harry thought of Mrs. Thompson’s pink sorrels and the curved stems of her fringe cups and the small buds of her sand pansies that she probably didn’t even know were growing in the middle of her tall spiked white and purple asphodels. They all needed water, real rain water, more badly than she knew.

So, even though the thunder made Harry start a few times as he drifted to sleep in the shed, and even though he imagined that when he woke up it would be because he was lying in a puddle of water, Harry smiled as he went to sleep, thanking the rain for its gift of life.

The next day, Harry was surprisingly dry when he woke as the sun rose. Taking his toothbrush out of the baggy in the front pocket of his tool bag, he made quick work of brushing his teeth with the last bit of toothpaste he had. Then, he went to the wooded area behind the houses, relieved himself, and began looking for a decent puddle of water.

Harry found a small collection of water at the base of a skinny silver birch tree and swirled his fingers in it, smiling. After gulping down a few handfuls, he sat down next to it, not even minding the wet earth on his oversized trousers.

He dug out a handful of fluxweed leaves from his pockets that he had collected in the Forbidden Forest before he left school and two strips of previously-white-now-brown cloths. He soaked a few of the leaves in the water and draped them over his aching knuckles. With patience and practiced motions, he secured the leaves onto his hands with the cloths and then audibly sighed when he dipped them back in the water.

Juvenile arthritis probably. He’d done some research whilst at Hogwarts, and that’s the closest thing he could find. His hands, especially during the summer, when Aunt Petunia hired him out to work gardens and during the winter when he rarely had a pair of gloves or any proper covering, ached fiercely, often becoming stiff and swollen.

He was thankful that he could find some relief in the fluxweed. Actually, he was thankful for the relief of the job, as well, because, even though it was illegal—he was underage and never saw what he earned—it meant that he didn’t have to spend time with the Dursleys. And now, after a year at Hogwarts, it meant he got to practice in subjects like Potions and Herbology, even when he couldn’t read the texts.

After a few more minutes of rest, Harry talked himself into continuing his work. If he was lucky, he’d be done with Mrs. Thompson’s garden and onto Mrs. Everleed’s halfway across town by the afternoon. She lived next to a shop that he knew handed out leftovers at the end of the night.

****************************************

By half past three, as he ripped up the weeds in the front of Mrs. Everleed’s house, Harry wasn’t sure he could wait any longer to eat. At one point in the day, as he had rested with his head between his knees, he thought perhaps he had lost a large chunk of time. He’d filled his stomach with water from the garden house on multiple occasions, but it wasn’t sitting well in his empty stomach.

Presently, he heard voices coming from the neighbor’s house, as the man who lived inside escorted another man to the porch. Harry frowned at the man’s black wide-collared shirt, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it seemed as if he made to lightly lift a nonexistent robe when he stepped down from the porch. Harry had made the same movement loads of times since leaving Hogwarts, only to remember that he was only in jeans.

“Let me know how the asphodel works,” the tall man in black said.

Harry’s eyes widened and he grinned. They were wizards!

“I will, and thank you again for the dried daffodils,” the other man said, extending his hand.

The two shook hands and the man retreated back inside, but the other stood, clenching and unclenching his fists for a moment. Harry had begun to wonder what the man was waiting for, when the man suddenly turned and stared right at him at his place in the bushes.

Harry gasped and looked away, busying himself again with the weeds.

The man’s boots came into his view, and Harry tensed, but couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I didn’t hear anything,” Harry said, head bowed.

The man crouched down.

“You are a wizard, as well. We said nothing you could not hear.”

Harry nodded, and tried to loosen his back, which was protesting to his tense crouch. He looked up at the man and took in his sharp features and long black hair.

“I…how did you know?” Harry asked.

“As you grow, you too will be able to feel others’ magical auras. I was able to sense yours,” the man explained. He stood fully and rubbed is hands together. Harry couldn’t help but think the man had a voice of silk. He spoke every word as if it were of utmost importance.

Harry stood as well, wincing as his hip creaked in protest. Belatedly, he realized what a mess he must look. He hadn’t been home or had a shower in four days. His arms and face were beat red from the sun, and his trousers, merlin, must look like some kind of creature on his thin frame. At Hogwarts he could at least hide them in his school robes.

“Yeah, I er, heard you mention asphodel,” Harry said, feeling like he needed to explain himself somehow.

“Asphodel has healing properties,” the man said, “Much like fluxweed.”

Harry’s eyes widened and clasped his hands together in front of his body, not knowing what else to do. How had the man known what plant was wrapped all under the cloth?

“May I see?” the man asked.

Harry hesitated.

“My name is Severus. I’m a potions master.”

Harry nodded and held out his hands, apologizing before he could stop himself or even figure out why he was apologizing.

The man studied Harry’s face for a few more intense moments, before gently grasping the boy’s hands. Harry’s face heated, as he too studied his dirt-covered hands, and the raggedy bandages over them. He tried to keep them still, but they were sore and trembling lightly.

“You did a good job with the fluxweed,” Severus said after a moment. “If you are amenable, I would like to treat you to a meal and assist you further.”

Harry tried not to shrink under the intense look the man was giving him, even as his heart hammered from the compliment.

“I—I don’t have any money, sir,” Harry admitted.

“I would like to treat you, Harry. You do not need to pay.”

Harry nodded and breathed through the dizziness that swamped his head when he bent to pick up his tool bag. The Everleeds were gone for the weekend and wouldn’t know if he had taken a break.

As he slung the bag over his shoulder and fell in step with the man, he realized that he had never told Severus his name. He almost questioned how he had known, but Severus was already asking him how he knew about fluxweed properties, when it was a potions ingredient that was not introduced until the fifth year at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out why Severus knew his name.

At the small muggle restaurant down the street, Harry settled into a booth across from Severus. He tried to inconspicuously put pressure on his hip and relieve some of the pain that made the area throb with his heart beat. It hadn’t been a long walk to the restaurant, but it didn’t take much for the pain of it to increase, especially after a few nights sleeping on the ground. Hopefully tonight he could find something to soothe the irritated muscles or at least make a softer bed for himself.

As Severus scanned the menu, Harry found it difficult to think of anything besides his hip and how grateful he was for the cool air of the restaurant. He pushed the hair up on the nape of his neck and bit back a gasp as the air skimmed the overheated skin. For the first time in three days, Harry felt himself take a deep, even breath of something other than hot, humid air. The sensation made him want to sink into his chair and sleep, but Harry remembered his manners and also his previous curiosity.

He watched Severus look at the menu and tried to gauge whether the man would be angry if he asked a question. Severus had done all of the questioning on the way to the restaurant. While he didn’t seem like a particularly irritable man, he did seem like a serious one.

Finally, Harry worked up enough courage to ask, “Sir, how come you knew my name was Harry?”

Severus looked up. “Your potions professor at Hogwarts, Larana Windt, mentioned you to me a few months ago.”

“She did?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

Harry hesitated before asking, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

The corners of Severus’ lips turned up. “No. I inquired about promising students, and she showed me your picture. She believes you have true…talent.”

Just then a waiter came and asked them what they would like to drink. Severus asked for a coffee, and when the waiter turned to Harry, Harry turned to Severus.

Severus nodded. “A water for the young man and a pot of tea as well, with honey please.”

Harry smiled sheepishly when the waiter left. Why did he have to freeze like that and look so stupid? Shaking his head, Harry began to ask a question several times before it finally came out.

“Are you joking, sir?” he asked, not wanting to sound rude. “About Professor Windt mentioning me?”

“Not at all.”

Harry stared back, bewildered. Why was he here with this strange man, again? Yes, he had been craving any company, especially another wizard’s company, and yes, he was extremely hungry, and yes, he needed to get out of the sun, but now he began to wonder what had made him think this was a good idea. The man wasn’t making sense. Harry wasn’t good enough at potions to be mentioned by a professor by name. He’d only gotten an A in the class, and Professor Windt had never so much as looked at him twice the entire year.

Seeming to sense the boy’s disbelief, Severus said, “There’s a great deal more to a potions mastery than being a talented brewer. Many fine potions masters performed average potions work during their time in formal schooling.”

Harry couldn’t imagine that.

“Average like an A?” he asked, wincing at how horrible that felt to admit to an expert.

“Yes, especially in the first few years,” Severus said.

Harry couldn’t say he felt reassured. How could people even be potions masters if they couldn’t brew? And was Severus telling him that he had the potential to be a potions master? He hadn’t really considered it before. In fact, he hadn’t given much consideration to any future career. As far as his muggle and magical schooling went, he was squarely average, even below average in a few subjects.

His first year, he had been partners with Neville Longbottom, as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had potions together. And while Neville wasn’t as distracting or loud as the other Gryffindors, he wasn’t the biggest help, either. Harry tried to think of more than five potions that the two of them had successfully completed together. And on the rare occasion that the students had brewed individually, Harry hadn’t turned out a single useable one.

Harry felt like maybe he was asking too many questions, but he couldn’t help himself from asking, “Did she…did she say…?” But then he couldn’t finish. He picked at his hand wrappings.

“She noticed something about the way you brew,” Severus said.

Harry looked more confused.

“Sometimes,” the man said, “the way your brew is more important than the result, especially in the beginning stages.”

Harry nodded and tried to make his face say oh-that-makes-much-more-sense, even though he didn’t understand. He felt badly for asking so many questions. Severus had brought him here to help him, and here he was bothering the man with questions about himself. Harry’s ears began to burn as he thought of his poor manners.

The waiter brought their drinks and Severus ordered ham and Swiss toasties and fruit salads for both of them.

Attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction other than his there-but-not-apparent talent for potions, Harry asked. “Why were you at Hogwarts, sir, when you spoke to Professor Windt? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.”

“It is unlikely that you would have, as you were merely a first year,” Severus said. He stirred a bit of cream into his coffee. “Like I said, I am a potions master, but occasionally, I guest lecture in upper level potions or independent courses.”

Harry nodded. He picked up his glass of water and tried not to show how incredibly soothing the cool glass felt on his palms or how good the water felt on his tongue when he gulped it down.

“Did you attend Hogwarts, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, quite a few years ago.” Severus looked as if he might say more but then didn’t.

“I’m a Hufflepuff,” Harry said with a faint smile. “What were you?”

"Slytherin,” the man said, as he pulled Harry’s empty tea cup toward him. “But I promise this isn’t poison.”

His face was serious, but Harry broke out into a grin as he watched Severus pour a measured stream of honey into the bottom of the teacup. Harry guessed he must have cast some kind of notice-me-not charm, because then pulled from his seemingly endless pocket, two small vials, a blue tin, and a small baggy with tiny brown seeds.

“Liquidized knotgrass” he said, uncorking the left vial. “For what purpose?”

Harry squinted in thought. He couldn’t remember what it was used for in potions, but he did know that if you planted knotgrass around shade-loving plants, they fared much better during the summer.

“Er, to make it not as hot,” he guessed.

“To regulate the heat,” Severus said. And he put a dollop of the thin green liquid into the teacup.

“To regulate my heat?” Harry asked, and he rubbed at the sunburn on his arms.

“The heat,” Severus said, “Of this herbaria, which invariably increases the temperature of water and similarly low viscous substances by 30 to 40 degrees.”

He took the vial on the right and tapped the top of it against the table three times. The herbaria inside inched down toward the cork, which Severus popped off, and a globe of the yellow jelly-like substance plopped into the cup. Harry figured Severus was done explaining things now, because he didn’t ask any more questions as he poured the tea from the pot into the cup and stirred. Even though the man wasn’t using instruments, Harry could tell he was measuring with his eyes, or perhaps even his magic. He couldn’t imagine how potions masters did these things.

Severus’ lips moved faintly as he sprinkled in a pinch of the small brown seeds. Perhaps he was counting them. He moved a piece of waxy paper in the blue tin to reveal a cluster of small dried green leaves. Even wrinkled, Harry could make out the jagged edges and the familiar elliptical shape of the veiny leaves. If anything, he could smell them, too.

“Mint?” he asked.

Severus nodded, crushed a bunch of the leaves between his longer fingers, and sprinkled them into the cup.

Harry almost protested as he watched the hunks of leaves fall into his drink. What was he supposed to do? Chew on them when he got to the bottom?

“The leaves have already dissolved,” Severus said, pushing the cup toward Harry. Harry realized his face was showing his worry. “Drink a bit before you eat and throughout your meal in addition to your water.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.

In the next moment, the ingredients were back in Severus’ pocket, and the waiter returned with their food in hand.

“Remember to drink before you eat,” Severus said when Harry made a move for his toasty.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Harry tried not to blush as he sipped from his tea. Severus’ eyes were fixed on him; he watched as if he were waiting for something to happen.

Harry didn’t feel any differently until he was halfway down the block with Severus after their meal. Then he realized his hip was not in pain anymore.

“Sir, what did you do to my tea?” he asked.

“I made it into a mild magical stimulant,” Severus said, walking them in the direction of the Everleed’s house.

“Is that all?” Harry asked, rubbing at his hip. He adjusted his tool bag over his shoulder and tried to tell if he was limping. “I think maybe it did more than that.”

Severus made a small smirk at the accusation. “Yes that is all. Your magic can take care of you rather well if you let it,” Severus said, eyeing the boy.

Harry thought that maybe it sounded like a reprimand.

“Of course if your magic is too busy with keeping away sun poising and tending to inflamed joins and fending off starvation, it is rather unlikely that it can take care of you like it should,” Severus said.

The man stopped when he felt Harry stop beside him. A silence stretched between them as Harry seemed to figure out how to react. First, he turned and looked behind him and took a few steps back, as if he were going to walk away. Then he planted his feet and dropped his tool bag from his shoulder, which clanked on the sidewalk. He scratched at his hair and then rubbed his hands together nervously. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man.

“What do you want?” Harry asked tiredly, when it became apparent that Severus wouldn’t say anything until Harry responded.

“I want you to be well,” he said. Harry hated that it sounded like some kind of declaration.

“I am well. I’m doing fine.” Harry managed to look up at Severus, whose face for some reason looked more concerned than angry.

“You are not.”

"Yes I am.”

Severus made a face as if to say ‘I am not fighting like this with you.’

But Harry couldn’t resist saying again, “I’m fine,” even though to his own ears his protest sounded weak. Harry, in his overly large jeans and t-shirt, with his unkempt hair and crooked glasses, suddenly felt very exposed on this street with these fancy muggle houses. He usually walked in the woods or took backroads and alleys.

“You are not fine,” Severus said, his voice gentle. “Without that magical stimulant you would not even be keeping your food down.”

“What does it matter to you?” Harry found himself asking. “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” he said. “My parents are dead and I live with my aunt and uncle and they hate me and they’ll never change anything.” He took a few breaths as if he thought he were done and then continued, “Unless you’re gonna give me some more food or-or some toothpaste or something I think…I think I should leave. I could get in big trouble. Someone from the neighborhood is going to tell Aunt Petunia I was out here with some man and she’ll go spare.”

Harry dropped his head and began wiping away at the tears on his face.

Severus waited a few moments before asking, “What if I could help?”

Harry gave him a questioning look through his tears.

“At the very least, you certainly do not have to stay with your aunt and uncle anymore. What they are making you do is inexcusable, especially for a wizard child. The Ministry will not have it.”

Harry tried to stifle a sudden sob with his sleeve as he shook his head. What was the man saying? That he could take him away? That maybe some other family appointed by the Ministry would want him? Severus stepped closer to him and laid his hand on the child’s back, which made Harry cry even harder. Harry tried speaking, but he couldn’t say anything past the sobs that were rolling from his stomach and through the back of his throat.

"Harry, I want to help you,” Severus said.

Harry sobbed, possibly louder this time.

“Will you let me help you?” Severus asked. He kneeled down before the boy.

Harry nodded, even as he continued crying. He felt for a brief moment, the man’s large hands gently cup either side of his head, and then felt his body slump into the man’s frame as blackness claimed his vision and he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face into the blanket covering his legs. The blanket was so soft it was difficult to believe he was allowed to use it. And everything else in Severus’ manor and what Severus was saying were all too good to believe, too.

No one had ever talked to him like Severus had. He kept asking him questions, and he listened, and he didn’t get yell or lash out when Harry was confused or didn’t know how to answer. Severus wanted to know Harry’s opinion. In fact, he insisted on it, and Harry didn’t know why, but it was making his heart pound in his chest. Flexing his newly-bandaged fingers, he tried counting to calm himself, but he couldn’t stop the tightness from rising in his throat or the hitching of breath.

“Oh no, I’m crying again,” Harry moaned from between his knees. “I’m so sorry.”

He felt himself shrink from Severus, who approached and knelt by his side. He knew the man wouldn’t hurt him, but Severus, now in his black robes and in the tidy arrangement of his own home, seemed intimidating when he came close.

“It’s all right, Harry. When I put you to sleep this afternoon, it wasn’t to stop you from crying. You were about to pass out,” Severus said.

“I’m such a H-Hufflepuff.”

“Maybe,” Severus said. “But that doesn’t make your tears mean any less.”

For a while the quiet room was filled with the sounds of Harry trying to get his breath back under control. He didn’t imagine Severus appreciated an orphan sniveling all over his home, but it was practically all he had done since he had woken up over an hour ago and Severus had allowed him to shower, given him new clothes, and offered him the impossible.

“This is probably overwhelming to you, Harry, but you don’t have to decide now,” Severus said from his side. “You can take all the time you—”

“But I do know!” Harry said, his head snapping up. “I want to be with you. I want to learn from you. Sir.”

Harry took a few deep breaths and held the man’s gaze, even though he badly wanted to look away. He didn’t want to show any signs of doubt. Severus’ mouth pull into an even tighter line as he slowly brought his hand to Harry’s knees.

“You want to be my apprentice?” he asked, his voice quiet, yet not losing its insistence.

“Yes, sir.”

Harry tried to draw himself higher to look surer of himself.

Severus sighed and dropped his hand from Harry’s knee. He stood and paced the living room a few steps before saying, “Are you sure? The other options are just as valid, Harry. You would be treated well no matter where you went. The Department of Children and Family Services would be more than able to place you in a proper home.”

Harry’s head fell again. Maybe Severus was trying to talk him out of being his apprentice because that’s not what he wanted.

“You don’t want me,” he realized.

“That is not what I meant,” Severus said, voice tight with frustration.

Harry felt Severus come close again, his robes brushing against the exposed skin of his arm.

His voice was soft when he spoke. “You’re possibly—a child who has been treated in the way that you have…it is not uncommon for you to feel overly attached. To me.”

Harry brought his chin to his knees and rubbed at his watery eyes.

“I just want to make sure you are making this decision because it is what you truly want. Not because you are afraid of who else you will be with or that you will never see me again. An apprenticeship is a big commitment, Harry.”

“No, it’s really what I want. I want to be your apprentice,” Harry said. He rearranged his legs until he was sitting cross-legged on the couch. He looked at the man in front of him with the most confident face he could muster. “I want to be with you.”

Severus let out an audible breath and nodded, as if convincing himself of the matter.

“All right then,” he said. “We can do that.”

****************************

“What?” Harry asked. He nearly dropped his cup of tea on the soft blanket that was still over his lap. And then he fumbled when he did place the tea back on the tray.

“Why were you under that impression?” Severus asked, setting his tea down as well. “You do not have to pay to go to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. It is included in your fees. Never mind the fact that a guardian should be the one paying if it was required. ”

“I don’t,” Harry shook his head. “Professor Sprout never said, but—I mean I just assumed…”

He brought his clenched fists up to hold his head as he tried to process the information. How many nights had he spent in his bed at Hogwarts dreaming of some kind of relief from the pain? He had learned silencio within the first two weeks, because his hip had been so out of alignment from flying lessons that he had cried himself to sleep. And there was a free doctor sitting in the castle the whole time?

“Would you have gone if you knew?” Severus asked.

“What?”

“Would you have gone to the hospital wing if you knew it was financially feasible for you?” Severus asked slowly.

Harry shrugged.

“Are you nervous or unsettled that Madam Pomfrey is coming here to help you?”

Harry gave him a wide-eyed stare before picking up his tea and shrugging again. What wasn’t he nervous or unsettled about right now?

“Have you ever been to a healer or a muggle doctor before?”

Harry sincerely thought about lying, but for some reason, he thought the man would know.

“No, sir,” he whispered.

Harry blushed at the admission. He sounded so stupid and poor, even to his own ears. He didn’t miss the way the potions master had leaned forward or the way his voice had fallen into that soothing tone. It was like he was some scared five-year-old going to school for the first time.

“She’s not going to hurt you, Harry.”

“I know.” Harry answered almost on top of Severus.

“I supply all of the potions for the Hogwarts Infirmary, and I know for a fact that Madam Pomfrey is a kind person, and she is an able, professional mediwitch. She won’t do anything without your consent.”

Harry nodded.

“I will be here with you the whole time.”

Harry nodded again and clanged his spoon around in his cup as he took in the information and tried to quell his anxiety.

“Will she…will she want to fix my magic?”

Severus blinked a few times in thought before saying, “No she will not. Why would you think that?”

“Well, you said I could be your apprentice because my magic does special things. I just—I don’t want her to change it so then I couldn’t be your apprentice anymore,” Harry said, looking anywhere but at Severus.

“No, Harry she’s not fixing your magic,” Severus said. He let out a breath that sounded a bit like a chuckle and then smoothed back a few strands of his long hair that had fallen out of place. “And I think you misunderstood me, so let me explain better this time. Your magic isn’t something that needs fixing. Madam Pomfrey is coming to heal your body. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, risking a quick glance at the man’s eyes. Even when he asked stupid questions, the man’s face was kind.

“What I meant was that your magic is special because of the way it reacts to potions. Remember when I told you Professor Windt noticed something about the way you brew?”

Harry nodded when he realized Severus was waiting for a response.

“Well, she noticed your magic and the way it actively works while brewing. Most witches and wizards only passively use their magic in the process of brewing. Their magic is simply present and sustains the magical reactions that occur. That is why muggles cannot make potions, even if they did they same thing as you. They have no magic to serve as even a catalyst to begin creating an efficacious potion.”

“So I have active magic and not passive magic?” Harry couldn’t remember any professors mentioning this before.

“Yes,” Severus said. “While brewing, your magic does more than most wizards’. That is why you will make a fine apprentice. It is an uncommon trait.”

“Do you have it?”

Severus gave a half-smile. “Of course.”

Harry had no doubt Severus had this ability. But he, himself, had never felt anything different when brewing. Wouldn’t he know if his magic was doing extra stuff while he was making potions? And what good was all that extra stuff if he was still bad at brewing?

“Are—are you sure, sir? I don’t think I ever noticed that was happening,” Harry said, afraid that he would disappoint the man.

“Yes, I am very sure,” Severus said. He gave an encouraging smile. “In fact when I gave you that cold potion in the restaurant, I could feel it then. Most people who have active magic while brewing also have active magic while imbibing potions. I could sense your magic swelling up, in a way, reaching out to work with the potion.”

Harry thought that sounded horrible. Something was reaching out in his body? Why had they never learned about any of this in school? He had assumed magic just kind of sat there wherever it was and then came out when you did a spell. But Severus was making it sound like his magic had an entire body of its own. And his was moving without him telling it to?

“You may not understand now, Harry, but you will,” Severus said.

Harry looked doubtful.

“As an apprentice, as my apprentice, learning about your magic will be just as important as learning about potions making. I will teach you to know it better and feel it and then will it to do what you want it to do while brewing, which will eventually make potions a very special experience for you. For these first months, we will focus on you getting to know your magic.”

“And you think I can do that?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

“I know it, Harry.”

Harry felt that he could not doubt the man.

****************************

Severus instructed Harry to “go to your room down the hall and rest before dinner,” and Harry gladly went, adding the possibility of having his own room to the list of things he simply could not think about any longer as he crawled into bed and closed his eyes.

The first time he had woken up in the bed after Severus had put him to sleep in the street (how did he do that anyway?) he had been overcome with fear, as he thought that this was Severus’ own room or someone else’s and that he was intruding. But Severus wasn’t angry. He had helped him. He had done nothing but help him since they had met.

Harry woke a few times during his nap, noticing the heat of his arms again and the dull ache of his hip. Perhaps that magical stimulant Severus had given him was finally wearing off. But Harry couldn’t possibly complain. He still felt better than he had in a long time. And that mediwitch was coming soon. He supposed whatever she put him through might be horrible, but she might end up helping him.

At dinner, Severus instructed Harry to eat more than he wanted, because he needed to prepare his body for the potions Madam Pomfrey would most likely be prescribing. So, Harry ate more chicken soup than he thought possible until his belly was uncomfortably full. He was drinking the last bit of his pumpkin juice when Madam Pomfrey arrived by floo across the room in a burst of fire.

Harry started badly, and suddenly the juice that was in his glass was spilling onto the dark wood of the table and rushing towards Severus’ lap.

“I’m so sorry!” he said as he simultaneously backed away from the table (and Severus) and tried swiping the juice back from the edge of the table.

“It’s all right,” Severus said, and a second later, thanks to Severus’ wand, the pumpkin juice was gone.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry!” Harry continued backing up and apologizing.

“Harry, Harry!” Severus said. His voice was firm and demanded attention. Harry stopped at the sound of it and took a few shuddering breaths as he realized that the juice was gone and Severus and Madam Pomfrey were standing at the table, looking concerned.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It was an accident,” the man said. There was that kind tone again.

Harry realized he had tears on his cheeks. Merlin, what was wrong with him? He willed his blush away as he wiped at his eyes and runny nose. Severus held out a handkerchief, and Harry worked up enough nerve to go and fetch it. Now that he was close to the two of them, he felt even smaller.

“Hello, Harry, I’m Madam Pomfrey, the mediwitch at Hogwarts,” the woman said. She was wearing burgundy and white robes, and her head was covered in a white scarf. She looked older than Severus and she was smiling. “I hear you’re going to be a second year.”

Harry gave the woman a small smile and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And I also hear you’re going to be an apprentice! That’s marvelous. Quite an accomplishment for a young man of your age.”

Harry ducked his head and glanced at Severus who looked pleased.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I’m sure Severus has told you that I’m here to help heal you.”

Harry rubbed at his arm nervously.

“We want your body and your magic in tip top shape for your bonding ceremony and for the beginning of your apprenticeship. Does that sound nice?” she asked.

Harry agreed. It did sound nice, even though he was beginning to sweat as he thought about the actual healing.

They made their way to a different room down a hallway on the side of the kitchen. It was bigger than he expected and had warm dark green tile and a high ceiling with a small hexagonal skylight. Looking at the sky, Harry saw that it was darker outside than he was expecting, but the room was well lit and had shelves of books and potions. There was a small sitting area to the left, and directly in front of them was a high table with a cauldron and potions storage all across the back wall. On the right wall there were two raised, cushioned beds.

“What is this room?” Harry wondered aloud.

“It’s a testing and containment room for healing potions,” Severus said.

“Oh.” Harry said. He thought about questioning why there was a room specifically for that but then stopped himself. The man did look like he could give a long lecture if he wanted to, and Harry didn’t feel up to it.

“That’s Severus’ specialty, dear. Healing,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Potions masters have specialties? Harry wondered, as she led him to one of the long blue beds by the wall. 

She instructed him to strip to his shorts and put on a thin white gown with ties in the back and then gave him the privacy to do so. Harry’s hands shook as he folded the clothes that Severus had shrunk for him earlier and placed them below the bed. If Severus had made him feel exposed earlier by asking him questions, he didn’t know what to call what he felt now. He knew his face was red when he sat again and told them he was ready. The gown was entirely too thin, and he didn’t even want to look at his body. What were they going to say?

“Thank you for doing that, Harry. Now, I want you to know that Severus and I won’t do anything without telling you first. How does that sound?”

Harry nodded but didn’t look at the two of them. Merlin, why was his heart hammering so fast?

“How are you feeling now, dear?” the witch asked.

Harry shrugged and continued to focus on his breathing, which for some reason was coming faster than he wanted it to.

“Are you nervous, Harry?” she asked.

Harry shrugged again and covered his hands with his face as he hunched over. He felt so hot suddenly, and Merlin, why couldn’t he breathe?

“Harry, can you take a deep breath for me?” Severus asked. His voice seemed closer than Harry remembered.

Harry brought in a shuddering breath, and then felt a tightness in his stomach twist upward to his throat. He turned his head just as he gagged and, in two horrible wretches, vomited his dinner all over the edge of the bed. In what seemed to be slow motion, he watched the pale liquidized food drip from the head cushion and splash onto the pristine tile floor. He moved to get off of the bed and somehow contain it all, when suddenly it all disappeared, and a bin was appeared below his head. Harry didn’t know which of them had done that for him, but he was grateful.

Severus offered him a handkerchief, which he gladly accepted. And then Madam Pomfrey was pressing a cup of cold water to hands. He downed it all and then marveled at how it left his teeth feeling freshly brushed. How had she done that?

Still with a hand over his stomach, he gave the cup back for her, muttering an apology.

“There’s no need to apologize, dear. Your body is just trying to tell us something. Feel free to use the bin if you need to again.”

Harry didn’t know where to look. He fidgeted with his gown.

“I gave him a mild magical stimulant before lunch,” Severus said. His voice was quiet. “It helped keep his food down then.” Harry realized the man had removed his robes, and the sleeves to his black button-down were rolled up to his forearms. He didn’t understand how the tall man in all black could appear so…nice.

“What we can do, Harry, is give you another type of magical stimulant. It will help soothe your stomach and nerves, and it will also help Severus while we heal you. Is that all right? It’s a potion like the one you took earlier,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Harry consented. He’d do anything to calm his nerves. The potion tasted a bit worse than the one he had taken earlier, but it still wasn’t horrible and it made his limbs feel light and calmed his stomach. Then he took a diagnostic potion from Severus, and Madam Pomfrey began a diagnostic scan. Harry watched with interest as a parchment and quill popped into sight and began taking notes, he assumed, about his body. Severus, with permission, placed his hands on the back of Harry’s neck and on his forehead to “gauge the progress of the potion.”

The man’s hands were giant compared to his, and they engulfed the back of his neck and his forehead. Harry breathed in the man’s scent and leaned into the warm touch. He couldn’t ever remember being this close to someone and not being scared.

“Are you all right, Harry?” he heard Severus murmured from above him.

Harry nodded and then realized a few tears were leaking out of his eyes. He wiped them away and tried then tried to hold himself as still as possible, as the two adults finished and then compared their results. Severus rubbed his hand down Harry’s back comfortingly before consulting the parchment with Poppy.

He answered their questions to the best of his ability about his eating habits (he ate what he could when he could), his aching hands (they had almost always felt like that), and his sun exposure (all day every day in the summer since he was five). The magical stimulant was helping him relax, especially after Severus had held him for a while.

Next, Severus began to smooth a sunburn cream onto Harry’s red arms, and Harry felt like he might just melt with pleasure. The combination of the cool cream and Severus’ warm hands nearly made him sob.

“How do you—why are your hands so warm, sir?” Harry asked.

The man chuckled. “Magic displacement, Harry. I’ve moved pools of magic into my hands, and it’s warming them.”

“You can do that?” Harry asked. He’d never heard of such a thing.

“Yes. It is very useful for situations like this, as well as when handling specific potions ingredients,” Severus said, smoothing the cream onto Harry’s forearms. “Most potions masters use this technique.”

“Will I?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Severus said. He pushed up the short sleeve to Harry’s gown and worked some into his shoulder. “We’ve just got to get your hands healed first.”

Madam Pomfrey took his hands into her own, which, he noticed, were not as warm as Severus’.

“The pain you feel in your hands is from juvenile arthritis, Harry. Did you know that?” Poppy asked, as she undid the bandages Severus had put on.

Harry nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I read about it in a book in the library.”

“Very resourceful,” Severus commented, making Harry blush. 

“It’s nothing we can’t work with,” she said with a smile.

“Really?” Harry asked. He looked to Severus.

“Of course,” the man said, as he rubbed some of the sunburn cream on Harry’s neck. “It will be a process, but we can manage it.”

Harry smiled. It would be wonderful for his hands to feel flexible and pain-free on a consistent basis.

He tried to force himself to relax, as the two adults rubbed creams on his hands and arms. He held his face very still and counted to calm himself when Severus put some on his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. When they were done, Madam Pomfrey rubbed a finger over the small circular scars on his shoulders that disappeared under the gown and dotted his upper chest.

“Nothing to be done for these scars I’m afraid. They’re too old” she said gently. “What are they from?”

“Err cigarettes, ma’am,” he twisted his hands into his robes. He thought he saw Severus mouth something to the woman, but he wasn’t sure. She glanced at the floating parchment again, and then said, “Thank you dear, and the scarring on your back. Do you know where that came from?”

“Ehh,” he glanced at Severus, who gave him an encouraging nod. “A lighter, ma’am,” he said, suddenly feeling very warm again. He hoped she knew what that was, because he didn’t want to explain.

“All right, thank you, dear,” the woman said. “You’re doing so wonderfully and being so brave.”

She took his hand and patted it lovingly, and Harry felt himself bask in her praise.

For the next half an hour, Severus and Poppy asked him questions as they gave him potions and incanted spells over various parts of his body. He marveled at how well they worked together, sometimes discussing what needed to be done in only a few words. Poppy did the spell casting, and Severus gave him potions. And after he gave him the potion, he would put his hands on Harry’s chest or his forehead or his back to discern the progress. He wondered if all potions masters did this, because it didn’t seem like something he would be good at.

When they got to his hip, Severus and Madam Pomfrey, watched Harry walk around the room. He was suddenly very self-conscious about his gait, as they watched him walk to and fro. As instructed, he stopped in front of Severus, who was crouched down on his knees, and the man put his warm hands on both of his hips and told Harry to raise his right leg up and swing it back. He bent this way and that, steadying himself with his hands on the man’s shoulders, as he tried not to blush at the awkward positions he was in.

After a few more exercises, Harry was worn out, and he was glad when he was allowed back on the bed.

“Severus will continue to help you with some posture realignment therapy—stretches and exercises like you just did—that will help your whole body feel better in time,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Especially your hip.”

Harry turned to Severus and smiled.

“Really? You can fix my hip and it won’t hurt or burn?” he asked.

“No, it won’t,” Severus said. “And I think we’re done here for tonight, don’t you Madam?”

“Yes, I believe we are,” the woman said, with her hands on her hips.

“Really?” Harry asked. “It’s already over?”

He had been imagining pain and needles and the like. Instead, he had received Severus’ warm hands and Madam Pomfrey’s kind words. He hoped that when he got back to his room and changed into the pajamas Severus had left for him, he would dream of how nice they had been and how whole his body felt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets tested for his affinity.

Harry belatedly realized that although Severus’ grip on his shoulder had lessened after apparating them to Diagon Alley, he had not let go of his shoulder as he navigated them around clumps of people in the crowded streets. The weight of the man’s touch still felt foreign, but its presence was welcome, as it reminded him that he was now Severus’ ward. The man was officially his guardian.

Through the three week process of talking to and sharing memories with kind witches and wizards about his treatment from the Dursley’s and Aunt Petunia’s clients, Severus had never been anything but kind, even when Harry acted like a baby or got scared or anxious. Sometimes he still woke up feeling confused that he was inside. Or he mistook Severus’ hand reaching hand for someone else’s angry slap, but Severus never got angry, and sometimes he would just sit next to him until he felt calm again.

Harry told himself not to think about the Dursley’s and his old life with them, but it was hard to remember not to do that. He especially didn’t want to think about them on this particular day. Severus was taking him to be tested for his affinity at one of his good friend’s apothecaries, and this was his first time at Diagon Alley. He had heard loads of stories from other students about the treasures on this street, and now he was finally here as well.

Witches and wizards of all ages buzzed past in robes of every color. Harry spotted a few people in familiar-looking muggle clothes and even fewer in muggle clothes from other countries and cultures. He felt grateful to be wearing black robes with a hint of yellow trim on the sleeves that Severus had bought for him, along with all of his other new clothes. He still couldn’t believe those stacks of trousers and shirts and pants and socks were all his.

“—feeling?”

“Huh?” Harry asked.

“How are your hands feeling?” Severus asked again, looking down at the boy.

“Oh, er well, sir,” Harry said, resisting the urge to stop and look back at the book store they had just passed. He flexed his fingers in front of him and rubbed them together.

“No discomfort?”

“No, sir. It’s brilliant, really.”

Severus had massaged Harry’s hands that morning and led him through some stretches for his hip. Then he had led them in an entire hour of meditation, which had felt like a whole day. Severus had assured him that they would continue meditation daily, especially after he learned his affinity.

“Will you—will you tell me what will happen again?” he asked. Severus’ hand gripped his shoulder a bit tighter as he gave the boy a reassuring look.

“Master Divers will procure a witness if there is not one present. She or he will be another potions master to ensure that the ceremonies are handled correctly. I will agree in a contractual, magical statement that I plan to take—to see to your best interests regardless of the result of the test. You will place your hand in Master Divers’. He will cast the spell, and we shall see what your affinity is,” Severus said.

“And if I don’t have—“

“Oh you have one, Harry. Trust me.” The man stopped suddenly and gripped the boy’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?” he asked, looking him in the eye.

Harry nodded, face solemn.

“And even if for some reason you do not have an affinity, you could still potentially work in the field of potions, and, of course I am still your guardian. I will never leave you.” Severus said. Harry nodded, and Severus straightened quickly, starting them down the street again.

By the time they made it to the apothecary entrance, Harry’s mind was swirling with concern again. Severus kept telling him it was just a test and that he was going to pass it, but for some reason it felt like more than that. They both looked up to the large black letters, which said “North Apothecary.”

“This is,” Severus cleared his throat, and Harry’s eyes shot up to meet his at the way his voice had faltered. “This is a rare and precious honor, Harry, to be with you as you are tested.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t know why his throat was suddenly tight.

“Thank you for allowing me to be with you,” Severus said.

Harry stared back with eyes wide, and then, because he didn’t know what to do, he nodded and reached for Severus’ hand. Severus gave a small smile and led them into the apothecary.

****************************

Master Divers looked only a bit older than Severus. He was wearing all black robes (Harry wondered if that came with the job) and was washing his large brown hands in a floating glass basin in the corner of the room. The basin was circular, and in the middle, a small fountain bubbled up, making the water churn. Harry wondered if it was some kind of special water.

Severus had not told Harry the ceremony would be in the basement of the apothecary. Though the room was warm and decorated with a large painted crest on one wall and a circular, soft, printed rug on the floor, Harry felt a bit uneasy that they were below ground.

When Master Divers pulled out his wand and dried his hands with a short spell, he gestured for Severus and Harry. Severus led Harry to the basin and instructed him to wash his hands thoroughly.

“What made you suspect?” Master Divers asked.

“Actually, I ran into him on the street. But before that, Larana noticed him.” Severus said, giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“In a full classroom of students?”

Severus smirked, “Indeed.”

The man whistled, and Harry suppressed a grin. He didn’t know how they were making him feel good about something he didn’t even try to do.

“Well it is an honor to conduct this test, Harry, Severus,” Master Divers said, nodding.

“And it is an honor to witness,” a voice said. Harry flinched at the new presence, as an older woman with short dark hair in deep purple robes appeared at the bottom of the staircase.

“Master Harris, it is a pleasure.” Master Divers said, and bowed in greeting.

The woman smiled and dipped her head.

“Greetings, Master Divers, Master Severus.” She moved fully into the room.

“Greetings,” Severus said, with a small bow, as he took out his wand and dried Harry’s hands. He then began washing his own.

“And you must be Harry?”

Harry stared at the woman and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, it is an honor to witness your test, young Harry.” She brought her hand down to cup the side of his face. “It is not often affinities are birthed and even less are tested. You are a joy to our community.”

Harry blushed and then belatedly realized that he had not flinched from her touch. Master Harris smiled at him before making her way to the basin to wash her hands.

“Not many people have the magical consciousness to detect affinities,” Severus explained, leading Harry to the tall table in the middle of the room. “So many times they can go unnoticed, especially in smaller wizarding schools, which require minimum or no potions classes.”

Harry stopped himself from asking questions about what other wizarding schools there were and where they were and why students went there instead of Hogwarts.

“We are glad you are here, Harry!” Master Divers said, with a wide smile. He came to stand across from them at the table, and Harry noticed the faint dark freckles on the man’s cheeks and nose. “From what I hear, you’re a shoe in,” he added in a whisper.

Harry grinned.

“Now, is everyone ready?” Master Divers asked. He rubbed his hands together, like he was warming them up.

Master Harris came and took her place beside him. Harry felt like he was standing in front of royalty, they both looked so regal in their robes.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Severus said in a low voice to Harry, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded. And pushed himself farther into Severus’ side. Master Harris and Master Divers placed their hands on the table flat, and Severus did so with his free left hand.

Master Divers cleared his throat and began speaking in a voice that was softer than Harry had anticipated. “Here present and acting as Master of these ceremonies is myself, Master Arthur Feagin Divers, affinitied to muggle and magical adder’s tongue, mastered of fifteen years. Here present as Witness is Master Emily Louisa Harris, affinitied to magical Iris Quartz, mastered of forty five years. Here present in request are Master Severus Tobias Snape, mastered of ten years, affinitied to healing and acting as charge and requesting master and also Harry James Potter as requesting student.”

Harry glanced at Severus, who was looked solemn upon hearing the introduction.

“Do you, Severus Tobias Snape, vow to your responsibilities in this test?” Master Divers asked, looking directly at the man.

“This I vow,” Severus said.

Harry wondered how Master Divers had memorized all of this.

“Do you vow to guide Harry James Potter and see to his wellbeing regardless of the results of this test?”

“This I vow,” Severus said.

Harry did not miss the way he squeezed his shoulder tighter.

“Do you vow that you have made Harry James Potter aware of the events of this test and that he is aware of his choice in training under you should he decide to train based on the results of this test?”

“This I vow.”

“Do you vow that your intentions are pure of heart and that you wish for Harry to succeed not for your own gain but for his?”

“This is vow,” Severus said.

Master Divers looked at Harry now.

“It’s your turn, Harry. Just answer verbally as you please.”

Harry nodded.

“Do you Harry James Potter come here freely and of your own choice?”

Harry nodded. Then Severus looked down at him.

“Oh, er, yes, sir. I did. I mean I do.”

Severus nodded.

“And do you wish to be tested and trust that we will guide you with our best intentions and effort?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

He felt it then a slight buzz of magic in the air that he hadn’t felt for a month since he had left Hogwarts. Everyone shifted a bit, taking in the new sensations. For the first time, Harry wondered if they felt it differently than him, since they were much more experienced with their magic than he was.

“Then we will begin the test,” Master Divers said. “If you would please give me your hand, Harry,” Master Divers said, with a smile.

Harry held his right hand out, which was shaking only slightly. Master Divers gently turned it palm up and rested his own large hand underneath. Someone silently accio’d a potion from across the room, and it came to rest on the table in the middle of them. Severus uncorked it with one hand and held it in front of Harry.

“It doesn’t taste bad,” Severus said.

Harry downed the thin potion and looked at Severus. He didn’t feel any different.

Severus’ hand came to rest on the back of Harry’s neck.

“In just a moment, Master Divers will cast the spell,” he said.

“And it won’t burn or hurt” Harry said quietly, repeating what Severus had reassured him of dozens of times that week.

“No, Harry,” Severus said, giving the boy’s neck a quick rub, “It won’t feel like anything at all.”

Master Divers did bring his wand out and placed it to Harry’s palm. He smiled at the boy and nodded.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Ostenda extendae magicae,” he said, tapping his wand lightly in the center of Harry’s palm. “ut not spectemus probabilis peritia.”

Harry looked closely at the tip of the wand, and, just like Severus had explained earlier, three tiny droplets formed and then fell onto his palm. They were so tiny he didn’t even feel them, and he was still trying to figure out where they had disappeared to when another three droplets fell, and then three more, and the three droplets kept appearing, falling, and disappearing so quickly, he lost count at fifteen.

Harry was not the best at maths, but he did remember Severus saying that each droplet contained at least twenty harmless potions ingredients, classified by flora, fauna, use, and reaction, that were separated into tiny cells within it. That was a lot of potions ingredients. Harry stood very still, wanting to feel the drops and to feel if his magic was doing anything.

He wanted to look up at Severus, but he didn’t want to mess anything up, and the man’s hand was still resting on his neck. He sneaked a glance at Master Harris who was looking at his palm intently, like Master Divers was, and, he presumed, Severus too. She seemed to sense his gaze and then glanced up at him, giving him a small smile and a quick wink.

Harry’s eyes snapped back to his palm. A wink was a good sign right?

He watched as drops fell in such quick succession they appeared as a constant stream between the wand and his hand. After only maybe two minutes, the droplets began slowing until the last few drops fell, not in triplets, but as single globes of microscopic potions ingredients.

When the spell ended, Master Divers blinked a few times in quick succession, as if the lights had been turned on suddenly, and then he looked at Harry and smiled.

“Good job, Harry,” he said.

Harry looked up at Severus, wanting to hear his opinion too.

“Yes, very well done, indeed” Severus said, pulling him close.

Harry let out a shaky breath, realizing, only as he relaxed in the man’s arms, how tense he had been.

“The three of us will look over the results over there if you will wait here.” Severus said, pulling away.

Harry hated to lose the warmth of his arms around him but nodded anyway.

“It won’t take long,” Severus said, and the three adults walked back over the basin on the other side of the room.

Harry couldn’t see what they were doing, but they gathered around the basin and Master Divers incanted another spell with his wand pointed at the water. They murmured softly between themselves, and since they did not cast a silencio, he figured it was all right that he heard a few bits of their conversation.

“On the flobberworm, too?” he heard Master Harris say.

“Yes and see here?” Severus asked, pointing to something in the water.

Harry stopped himself from drumming his fingers on the table as he waited. Severus had said he had an affinity, and he would not lie, but Harry could not stop his heart from slamming in his chest as he waited for the results.

When they were done conferring in a few minutes, they approached him with smiles on their faces.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Master Harris said.

“Really?” Harry exclaimed. He was in Severus’ arms a second later, feeling the now familiar drape of his robes around his sides.

“See? You had nothing to worry about,” Severus said, mouth brushing against the boy’s hair.

Harry felt a few tears on his cheeks, and he rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses.

“I have one?” he asked, just to make sure.

“Yes, Harry. You have an affinity,” Severus said, cupping the side of his face.

Master Divers cleared his throat. “Harry, you appear to have a special affinity like Severus does. I have never seen an affinity like this.”

Harry stopped deeper into Severus’ robes.

Master Harris said, “You are affinitied to two elements that even muggles know and appreciate. Hydrogen and oxygen.”

Harry looked at Severus. “It’s not a plant or something?” he asked.

“No, it’s much more ubiquitous than any type of plant, Harry. It’s water,” Severus said.

“Oh,” Harry said. “That’s good right?”

“It’s exceptional,” Severus said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder and standing a little taller, himself.

“Water is in almost everything, young Harry,” Master Harris said, the lines beside her eyes deepening when she smiled. “Your affinity will prove very useful in your potions career.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you,” he said, remembering his manners. “for helping me and all.”

“It was a pleasure,” Master Harris said.

“It truly was,” Master Divers said.

Harry blushed and then looked to Severus.

“We are grateful for your help,” Severus said to the two adults. “I am sure that we will work together again in the near future. For now, we had best be on our way,” Severus told them. “Harry has had a long few weeks, and I should think some rest is in order.”

****************************

At home, Severus made a light dinner, and it wasn’t until they were almost done that Harry finally managed to ask Severus, “So, I can be your apprentice now right?”

“Of course, Harry,” Severus said, sipping from his tea. “You could have been my apprentice without an affinity as well. It is not unheard of, just rare and, I should think, considerably more difficult.”

“Do you—do you need permission for that?” Harry asked.

Severus was silent for a beat before replying. “Permission to allow you to become my apprentice?”

Harry nodded and pushed some food around on his plate.

“Permission from whom?” the man asked, looking at the boy.

Harry shrugged. “I guess from Aunt Petunia or something,” he said.

“You know I’m your guardian now, right?” Severus asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And your relatives are not your guardians anymore.”

Harry nodded.

“So they are not allowed to make any decisions concerning you anymore. They and their accomplices are being appropriately punished in the muggle way, and you will never have to see them again. Remember?”

Harry nodded but still chewed his lip.

Severus looked like he wanted to say something else on the matter, but instead, he pulled a small ball from his pocket and then wandlessly enlarged it.

It looked like a muggle snow globe, of sorts, Harry thought. He hadn’t seen one of those in years. But this didn’t have snow. It had swirling blue and gray streaks that swirled around each other and reminded him of those hypnotizing muggle screensavers.

“This is for you,” Severus said, pushing the globe on its small wooden base toward Harry.

Harry pushed his plate out of the way and pulled the globe close, watching the insides of it bend and swoop.

“What is it?” Harry asked, feeling the smooth surface of the glass.

“It’s a rector, and it’s full of water,” Severus said. “from every potions ingredient that your magic told us it was reaching out to today.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Really? All of this?”

“Yes. It was in the flora, such as the leaves of the fluxweed and lemongrass plants and even in the fauna which had not been dehydrated, like the flubberworm and the Poppy headed beetle.”

Harry looked at the globe with a grimace.

“This has flubberworm guts in it?” he asked.

Severus coughed over what Harry thought might have been a laugh.

“I would not say that,” he said.

“Is it—what should I do with it?” Harry asked.

Severus, flicked his wand and send their finished plates to the kitchen sink.

“You should keep it safe,” he said. “Your rector will help guide you in your studies. Tomorrow, you will begin meditating with it.”

“Does everyone get one when they get tested? Do you have one?”

“Most people do, but I do not,” Severus said. “The testing spell only utilizes potions ingredients. It does not account for human bodies. My Master had to arrange other means.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He thought maybe that was a story Severus would tell at a different time, so he didn’t ask any more questions.

“Oh, look, it says something!” Harry exclaimed, when he ran his finger over a smooth edge of the base.

“What does it say?” Severus asked with a smile.

“It says ‘Harry James Potter: Water Affinity: Apprentice.’ And it has the date.” Harry rubbed his fingers over the golden letters.

Severus nodded. “As you grow, your rector will too. When you add skills or special training, it will say so, and it will not always say ‘apprentice.’”

Harry nodded, but then his forehead wrinkled. “I thought—I thought maybe I wasn’t officially your apprentice yet, cause we haven’t done the paperwork and stuff.”

Severus took an uncharacteristically deep breath and smiled. “You are correct. But it seems your magic feels differently about the matter. It seems that, in the ways that matter, you are my apprentice already, after all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Harry settle in.

He is…exceedingly nervous,” Severus said, as he accepted the cup of tea from Pomona. “Around me, not around me. His hands shake terribly when I am close.”

“How does that work in the lab?” Professor Sprout asked, taking a seat across from him at her white, wooden desk with her own cup. They were in the small office she kept just outside of the greenhouses on Hogwarts’ grounds.

“It doesn’t,” Severus said, grimly. “I haven’t let him into the lab yet.”

Professor Sprout looked to the ceiling and smiled. She was one to smile for various reasons, and through his recent visits, Severus was beginning to feel he could tell them apart. “Severus, the boy is still adjusting. What do you want from him?”

“It’s been weeks,” Severus said.

“And?”

The man only let his frown show for a fraction of a second before clinking his spoon against the inside of the cup.

“I want him to feel like he is growing as an apprentice. He is afraid of my rejecting him.”

“As his guardian or as his master?” Pomona said with a glint of mirth in her eyes. “You wanted to be both. Being one is difficult enough.”

Severus knew it was not a reprimand, but he couldn’t stop the twinge of fear that the reminder brought. He was sure he had made the right decision; nothing made him doubt that. But the process was admittedly slower than he had imagined. In many regards it seemed they had moved backward from their initial days together. Harry was more susceptible to be overcome by his emotions at any given time, more timid in Severus’ presence, more jumpy and agitated and afraid of doing wrong, all of which Poppy and Professors Sprout and Windt had said was natural, given the situation.

“He’s young and afraid and very new to being cared for,” she said into the silence. “I’ve seen you with the boy. You are nothing but patient with him.”

Severus nodded.

The woman sighed and placed her cup down on her desk. She rubbed her hands together briefly, clasped them together and put her knuckles to her chin. “Gaea knows I wish I had noticed something while he was under my charge this last year, but I didn’t.”

Severus opened his mouth, and she held up her hand to stop him.

“There is nothing to be said to assuage my guilt. I knew of him only as a quiet Puff who liked to spend time in the greenhouses and needed extra tutoring to keep up.” She shook her head and looked past the man, envisioning what Harry’s first year had been like. “It’s a shame, really, and a failure on my part.” She cleared her throat. “But I’ve already spoken to the other Heads of Houses and we will be speaking with some representatives from The Department of Children and Family Services to learn more of the signs of these types of things before next term.”

Severus nodded, and they both sat in quiet for a moment before Pomona went on.

“Severus, the boy was abused, yes, and neglected and exploited, but he is resilient and very independent for his age. Let him continue to make choices for himself. Let him try and fail. Let him explore. Let him cry,” she said.

Severus’ lips turned up, as she gave him a smirk, knowing full well he had been a Slytherin and was still very much a Slytherin at heart.

“He will be fine,” she said.

“I know.”

“You will both be fine,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand briefly.

Severus looked less sure.

*************************************

“Does it make you nervous when I stand behind you?” Severus asked. He was not wearing his robes, just a dark button down and slacks, like he often did in the evenings.

Harry was hunched over a tomato, doing the double task of practicing his dicing and preparing food for their dinner.

Harry paused and shook his head.

“No?” Severus asked, even as the boy shrank away from him further.

“Hmm-mm.”

Severus almost pressed the matter further, but instead he accio’d a head of lettuce from the table and settled in on the other end of the counter to begin chopping.

“Muggle ways of cooking are very useful for building foundational skills,” Severus said.

The boy had his tongue stuck out with the effort of making the precise cuts that Severus had showed him to make.

“You said you…didn’t do much cooking when you were with your relatives?”

The boy visibly tensed before he shook his head, still looking at the half-sliced tomato.

“Well it’s good to get experience with me now. Cooking and potion making are not too different, after all. Both are exercises of measurement and mixing. Both require knife skills. Both can, in many ways, give life.”

Point out the differences between his past life and his new one, he had read in the book the Case Witch had given him.

The boy didn’t respond, had only continued his dicing job and then his next mincing job. Severus didn’t pursue any further conversation as they finished their respective duties. When they were finished, he tossed the ingredients for the curry in the large pan, turned on the heat, and covered it with a lid. Then he cleaned the used utensils and cutting boards with a bit of wandless magic, before returning to his book, Supplemental and Complemental Reactive Agents in Low-Viscous, Stem-Based Brews, that was lying on the far edge of the kitchen bar.

Harry had rounded to the other side of the high counter and sat in a stool when he was finished chopping. As close as they were, Severus almost missed him say in a small voice, “They both use fire too.”

*************************************

Severus had instructed Harry to keep a journal, as all potions masters did. Every evening, when they were finished with their evening meditations—Harry with his rector and Severus with his hands lightly folded in his lap—they journaled for at least 15 minutes before bed.

A good mix of structure and freedom gives children a sense of predictability and agency. The book had said. If a child has been in highly volatile and unpredictable circumstances, they may react to structure with welcome acceptance or harsh rejection. Each child is unique.

Thankfully, Severus had found that Harry appreciated structure. From what he had gleaned about the boy’s childhood, the only predictable aspects of his life were school, when he had gone, the type of work he had done, and his abysmal treatment by his relatives and their goons. Assurances of sleeping arrangements, food, and levels of belittlement and neglect varied vastly from house to house, year to year. In contrast, the boy spoke of Hogwarts with contentment, noting the routine nature of the classes and study schedule.

“What is something you like most about Hogwarts?” Severus had asked him one day, as they had labelled potion bottles.

“Breakfast,” Harry had said with a smile “You wake up every day and get to eat…and with your friends!”

Harry had been very nervous about keeping a journal at first, because he had never done it before, so Severus had advised him to make lists “as small or as long as wanted about anything that came to mind.” Presently, Harry was listing Things There Should Be Potions For. He had written underneath: Maybe These Already Are I’m Not Sure. His list so far said:

To make you feel like the sun is on you when it’s not  
To make a mean dog like you (the potion is for the dog)  
To let a wizard not born in the wizarding world know everything about wizards  
To make you have words when you don’t feel like you have any  
To make you brave like a Gryffindor even when you’re not

*************************************

Harry had not been sleeping well, and he only spoke of it when pressed. Severus didn’t want to upset the boy further, but he was the child’s guardian, and Harry hadn’t survived all those years with his relatives just to be taken under by insomnia in his home.

“Is there anything that has helped you sleep in the past?” Severus had asked, one morning, as they took a short walk by the edge of the nearby woods. He wanted to try environmental controls before prescribing any potions.

“I don’t know,” Harry had mumbled with a shrug. He was dragging a stick across the trunk of the trees they passed and sticking it in the damp ground.

“What about your room at Hogwarts. Is there anything there that you would like to have here?”

Harry was silent for a moment before saying, “People.”

Severus pondered that for a moment. “All right, anything else?”

Harry slowed, as he couldn’t pull the stick out of the ground from where he stuck it. Pausing, he crouched a bit, grabbed it with both hands, and yanked it out. He brushed away the clump of wet dirt that had stuck to the base. Then he caught up to Severus and began again knocking the stick against the trees again, not caring about the dirt hardening on his hands and forearms. He was used to being dirty, and Severus was thankful for that. Making potions, especially prepping potions, was rarely a tidy affair.

“Maybe my custosfolium,” Harry said with careful enunciation.

“Pomona gives students guardian plants?” Severus asked, eyebrows raised.

“Everyone who wants one,” Harry said.

“Does everyone want one?” Severus asked, curious.

“All the first years did,” Harry said. Then he thought. “Well at least all us guys. Justin has a bunch of lavender that smells really good, and Ernie has something with white folded flowers. I forgot what. And Wayne has a philo—philodendus?”

“Philodendron,” Severus supplied.

“Oh right. That.”

“And yours?”

“Mine’s a spider plant. That’s a muggle plant. It hangs right next to my bed. And there’s an ivy on the wall behind my headboard. Actually, there’s lots of ivy everywhere in the Basement. Professor Sprout has us take turns taking care of all the plants. Me and Meg took care of them for a week, and we did great. Professor Sprout said that.”

“Meg?” Severus asked.

“She’s a third year. She assigns us with older students so we don’t mess stuff up.”

It made sense, Severus thought, although it had never occurred to him that the Hufflepuff House would be so filled with plants. Pomona surely knew the assets of each one, and he imagined she had strategically placed them to cause the most benefits. At the very least, the oxygen levels would be higher in their rooms than elsewhere in the castle.

“Would you like some plants in your room here?” Severus asked.

Harry stopped and actually looked at him. “Really?” he asked with what seemed to be cautious hope.

“Yes. They would be easy to procure.”

“Er, yeah, I would like that,” Harry said with a small smile.

“Well, we’d best be getting back then. We can do a bit of work with your rector, as planned, and then go the greenhouses at Diagon to choose a few.”

Harry took to swinging the stick with renewed vigor, as they headed back to the house. He jogged ahead of Severus to swing it widely, as if hitting an invisible object.

“There’s a muggle sport called baseball that I think I could do now,” he called, swinging it again.

“Oh really?”

“It’s not as dangerous as quidditch. Don’t worry.” Harry tossed the stick further into the woods and jogged back to Severus. “It wouldn’t even hurt to play, now that my hands are almost better.” He held out his dirt-caked hands for Severus to see. The man put his palms underneath the boys and looked at the very faint trembling in them.

“I see,” Severus said.

“But you have to be really fast. I’m just kind of fast, see?” Harry took off running toward the house, his limp much less pronounced than it had been only a month before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what Harry is afraid of.

Harry couldn’t come out of his closet. He knew it was stupid. He knew if he didn’t answer eventually, Severus would come in and look for him, and then…well, he didn’t know what would happen. But he couldn’t come out. The simple box of the closet and the smell of the recently-added plants in his room reminded him of the sheds he had been in over the years, the quiet, damp, hot, or cold refuges that served as his first fleeting sense of home.

Anyway, he might be going back there to one of those sheds. Severus knew, and he might not want him anymore.  
“Harry, I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m not upset. I just want to talk,” Severus said again, his voice close to the door.

Harry didn’t respond, just curled further into the corner, next to the two pairs of shoes Severus had bought him last month. He wondered if he would get to keep them.

“I’m not angry,” Severus said, then listened for a response. Then finally, “I’m going to make supper, Harry, so come out when you are ready.”

Harry hugged himself tighter.

***********************************

The evening before, Severus had written in his journal alongside Harry. In it, he noted a few hypotheses about using agrippa and eel eye in a specific regeneration potion he and Poppy were hoping to begin testing in the next few months. He had also written, as he now regularly did, about Harry’s progress, saying:

Harry seems to have taken to potion prep quite well, which is encouraging. Today he sorted, peeled, and weighed dragon liver and lizard’s legs for almost 2 hours with minimal interruption. His conceptual grasp of potions is becoming more adequate for his age; he can usually identify the difference between a mixture’s counter and re-agent, but generally cannot predict when an ingredient will induce a reactive, preactive, or proactive state in a potion. He is a kinaesthetic learner, so I will create some simple experiments this week for him to practice these concepts.

He seems to be enjoying his rector and meditation time. Though he is not as anxious as he seemed the previous few weeks—perhaps because of the new additions to his room—I remain concerned that I am not able to aid him enough in his emotional and mental recovery. I am speaking to Poppy soon about potential therapy options for him.

Nevertheless, he is doing quantifiably better in my care than he would be otherwise. With six weeks before the summer holiday ends, I aim to prepare him well for a successful second year. (This reminds me to speak to Larana about his supplemental apprentice classes.)

Harry has successfully completed the 6 required cold potions before moving on to his first simple hot brews, the first 8 of which Larana covered in his first year. Tomorrow, we will light the flames for his first heat-induced potioneering under my charge. (I do remember what a thrilling moment this was for me.)

***********************************

“It was a disaster,” Severus said. He and Poppy had already scheduled a brief meeting after supper to troubleshoot some of the logistics of testing their regeneration potion. Instead of cancelling it because of Harry’s meltdown, he was now using the time to troubleshoot this situation, while Harry had locked himself away in his bedroom.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” Poppy asked, clearly abandoning her notes for the meeting at hand, shrinking the quill and scroll, and sending them into her small bag. She made herself comfortable in one of the chairs in the small sitting area. The last time she had been in this room, Harry was receiving his first check-up and had gotten sick off of the bed on the far wall.

“No, I made sure of that, but the way he reacted, you would think that he was being boiled alive!”

Poppy gave him a look that made him know she thought he was exaggerating.

Severus paced a portion of the room. “First he almost refused to move on from prep. I should have known something was wrong then, but I assumed he was just a bit anxious. You should have seen his face when I cast incendio to start the flame, and when he got near the cauldron, he nearly passed out he was hyperventilating so.”

“It makes sense,” Poppy said, moving some of her gray waves that had fallen in her face, “Given his history.”

“I know that,” Severus said, a bit too loudly. He stopped walking, took a deep breath, and shook his head. “I apologize, Poppy. I am on edge.”

She waved off his apology.

“It does make sense,” Severus said, and he joined her in the sitting area. “He was so worried about the bonding ceremony burning him, and at the time I mistakenly grouped that specific concern with all of his other ones. Even when we first examined him, we found the cigarette and lighter burns. How could I not have noticed?”

Poppy had seen Severus work continually on the hardest healing potions of their age without as much outward frustration.

She patted his knee, briefly. “You were noticing many other things, dear. You cannot perceive everything, especially if he was trying to hide it.”

Severus was quite for a moment, as he tried to catalog every meal they had eaten together at home—Harry carefully chopping this or that or stirring and mixing ingredients by the sink, on the far edge of the counter, never by the fire. “All of the meals we’ve prepared, and he hasn’t been within three meters of the cooker.”

“Many phobias can be overcome,” Poppy said. “And this may also just be a natural byproduct of his rather strong affinity, Severus. He’s so closely connected to water; it does make sense. I haven’t heard of such thing before, but magic has a way of bringing out our innate proclivities doesn’t it?”

Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“You’re right. He was also in a potions class his entire first year and somehow managed, so we know he is able on some level to be in proximity. Or was.” He would have to speak to Larana again.

“Have you ever heard of such a thing with affinities, Severus?” Poppy asked, after a brief silence.

“No, but I have never encountered a water affinity either, of course.”

***********************************

“This is stupid. I’m stupid,” Harry said, as he furiously wiped his eyes and stared at his rector, which was sitting, encased in a protection spell, next to the caldron at his station.

“No, you’re not,” Severus said. He guided him a few steps away from the work table and the small flame moving beneath the cauldron. “It’s just going to take some time. Here, face me,” he said.

Harry gladly turned away from the fire and stepped closer to his guardian. He let out a loud, shaky breath with his forehead on the man’s chest. Severus laid his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, simultaneously, sending a bit of calming magic into his body and feeling for signs of his relaxing—for his trembling to still and heartbeat to resume its usual rhythm.

“I’m such a baby,” Harry said, voice slightly muffled.

“No, you are very brave.”

“I wasn’t even this scared when I was in Professor Windt’s classes last year,” Harry said, sniffing.

“You have experienced trauma, Harry, and you have experienced a considerable amount of change in the last month, not the least of which has been growing stronger and more confident in your water affinity. We can’t predict these things, nor should we. We can only deal with them as they come.”

Severus’ own master had said something similar to him during his apprenticeship. As such a naturally calculating and plan-driven man, he had to be reminded, and still did, that many things were out of his control. They waited in silence while Harry collected himself. Severus could feel that he was exercising the breathing patterns they practiced in meditation every evening.

“We will keep trying, Harry,” Severus said, with a small squeeze to the boy’s neck.

“No has ever heard of a potions apprentice who could only make cold potions,” Harry said, softly. He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and stepped back from Severus. “There’s only like 10 of them.”

Severus chuckled. “There are more than ten, child. But you are correct. The majority of potions require heat. I know it seems quite impossible now, but we will work through this together.”

“But you didn’t know,” Harry said, “before you said yes.” A sick feeling of guilt filled his stomach.

“No, I didn’t know, and quite honestly, I am not sure you knew either,” Severus said. Then he silently vanished the fire and led Harry out of the potions lab and to the kitchen, where he poured them both glasses of water. “We’ll try something again tomorrow, but today, why don’t we go to the river and collect some ataman clay to fill our winter stock.”

Harry smiled. He loved the river, and he was good at collecting ingredients. If he was lucky, Severus would let him swim until it got dark.


	7. Chapter 7

“As per custom, you will be let out of two of your standard courses to more fully immerse yourself in your apprenticeship duties,” Severus reminded Harry. “Have you thought more of which subject you would like to take and which you would like to forgo?”

They had just finished breakfast and were sitting at the table finishing off their morning tea. Earlier in the week Severus had begun bringing up the end of summer, which was still 7 weeks away but would go by quicker than either of them expected, he was sure. He had slowly begun to hint at what their lives would look like when summer ended and Harry returned to Hogwarts. From resources provided to him by the Ministry’s Department of Children and Family Services, he knew that transitions for Harry might trigger unpleasant emotions.

“Mmmm…I’m still thinking,” Harry said and cracked his knuckles as he thought.

Severus gave him a disapproving look and the boy wiggled his fingers and tucked his hands under his thighs to stop him from doing any more. He could practically hear Severus’ voice in his head without the man saying a word: We are practicing healing your hands, not maiming them.

“Like I said, History of Magic and Astronomy are your least essential courses right now. And I can easily supplement your knowledge on these subjects through apprenticeship work.”

Harry nodded. Severus had explained—in detail, as he did everything—that Harry would still keep up with his apprenticeship work while at Hogwarts, but doing that meant a reduced schedule at school. Like all apprentices, how that was negotiated depended on many factors, including the type of apprenticeship, the Master’s preferences, and the time at which the apprenticeship began. Since Harry was only going into his second year, Severus had insisted that he continue in Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology for a “well-rounded magical education.” His Potions class would be absorbed into his apprenticeship with Severus, which meant he wouldn’t be with the rest of the Second Years in Potions. That just left one class that would also be dropped for more apprenticeship hours.

Harry had not particularly enjoyed History of Magic or Astronomy his first year. Neither classes were terribly interesting, because they didn’t involve practical magic, and that was obviously the most fun. Professor Binns loved to drone on about wars and treaties and such, which was enough to make Harry sleepy. But writing essays for Professor Binns wasn’t difficult. Astronomy, on the other hand, had been a bit more interesting, but Harry was pants at filling out star charts from memory.

“Actually, I think I want to drop astronomy,” Harry said, as Severus moved to open the Daily Prophet on the table.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the sudden decision.

“All right and why is that?”

Harry bit his lip.

“Well I’m no good at star charts.”

Severus nodded.

“And I only got an A,” Harry said.

“And why do you think that is?” Severus asked, placing the paper down fully on the table, giving Harry his full attention. He was well aware of Harry’s grade reports and also aware that it was a sore subject for him. All in all, the boy did not feel well-equipped as a student.

“I don’t know, I’m just not good at it.” Harry admitted with a frown.

“I’m sure that there are reasons which made you struggle more with this class than others. You received an E in History of Magic and a few other classes, correct?”

“Well History of Magic is easy because you don’t have to memorize anything,” Harry said. “You can just go to the library and write the essay for however long it takes, but Professor Sinistra makes us come to class and take exams. I’m no good at exams.”

Severus paused for a moment before speaking. As he had quickly learned to do, he was digging beneath layers of subtext to decipher what messages Harry might be trying to send.

“When you say you are no good at exams, what do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Nothing! I mean that’s what it means. I’m no good. And even when I think I remember things then I don’t. And none of the questions are what I think they will be. And it makes me—I don’t know it makes me—” Harry stopped and ran his hands through his hair before cracking his knuckles again, even as he felt a slight stab of pain shoot up to his wrists.  
Harry took a few shaky breaths, as he realized how worked up he had gotten so quickly.

“When you do take an exam, Harry, how do you feel?” Severus asked, after the boy had been quiet for a few moments.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Harry said not looking at him, “Sometimes, it just feels like I can’t breathe. And sometimes I feel like I’m going to be sick and sometimes I am sick. I try not to be a baby about it. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll try to do better for you.”

“I am not worried about any so-called exams for your apprenticeship, Harry. I am confident in your abilities. I am, however, concerned that you experience so much anxiety on a regular basis,” Severus said.

Harry remained quiet, still not looking at the man.

“We do not have to talk about this now, but we should discuss this further in the future. Not because you are in trouble,” he assured him, “But because I want you to be successful as my apprentice and as a student at Hogwarts.”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “I—I don’t know if it can be fixed. It’s always been like this.”

“Even before Hogwarts?” Severus asked. 

“Well before Hogwarts I was…I was in school but I wasn’t always in school, you know.”

Severus nodded. He had remembered from the legal proceedings an past conversations that Harry had been enrolled in school at some points. And when he was enrolled, he often sporadically attended, mostly during the off season for gardening. But he hadn’t always been enrolled. Unlike his cousin, he had been also been enrolled in home schooling programs some years, which had served as a vehicle for Aunt Petunia to loan him out for gardening and outdoor work for longer periods of time.

“But when I was in school, I didn’t get to study much or do my homework because I was working, and, and I was always so nervous because I didn’t know anything and I couldn’t remember anything. And now, even at Hogwarts, I get the same feeling like—like no matter what I do I’m gonna make a mess of it and I won’t be able to pass.” Harry was wringing his hands by the end. 

“It sounds like you’ve done very well despite your circumstances, Harry,” Severus said. “And it also sounds like you have exam anxiety, which is understandable but is not—incurable, so to speak. There are things we can do to help reduce those feelings.”

“Okay, well we’ll see,” Harry said, finally glancing at him.

“And we can—”

“If it’s all right, I think, I’ll just take my morning walk now. Just along the fences, like always,” Harry said, suddenly scrambling to get up. He didn’t wait for a response, as he walked away from the table and grabbed his light jacket from the coat rack in the next room. “I’m sorry, I think I just need a walk. I’m sorry,” Harry said.

He looked as if he wanted to dart out of the door, but still he waited for Severus’ slight nod of approval before bolting out of the door. Once he disappeared, Severus let out a small sigh—the only sign of the toll the conversation had had on him. Bringing up the past was not often easy for Harry, and admitting he was struggling was equally hard. Harry often thought that any shortcoming was just another reason he might be sent away at any given moment. And despite Severus’ near constant reassurance that this was not the case, Harry still felt insecure.

Severus wandlessly waved their dishes to the kitchen to be washed and chanted a light cleaning spell. He considered how he would broach the subject again—since it did need to be discussed eventually.

In general, Severus was a private man. Being a potions master did not necessarily have to be a very solitary profession, but he had made it one. But he was beginning to realize that raising Harry—as a ward and as an apprentice—could not be a solitary endeavor. More and more, even while consulting ample outside resources, he felt his limits in helping the child. He would have to make more efforts in the coming weeks to gain support.

*********************

“Patrick, I’m glad we could meet again,” Severus said, as he and Patrick took seats in the lounge outside of Patrick’s work space. The place was filled with plants—some hanging from the ceiling in hooks, some floating by the walls, some glowing with magic. There were a mix of magic and muggle varieties—many Severus knew and a few he could not quite place. Patrick’s root affinity meant that he often had rare and unusual plants for potions ingredients, since he was very good at crossbreeding.

“It’s been a few months, eh? And things have changed for both of us. This time in April I had just mentioned the possibility of apprenticeship. Now look at us,” the man said. He gestured at Severus to take some biscuits from the tray.

“Yes, I was certainly not expecting this to unfold so soon,” Severus said. Thinking back on the last month of his life. He had certainly undergone some big life changes. He didn’t know if he had explicitly been processing those changes for himself or just for Harry.

“I am hoping that since they are beginning at the same year and are the same age, we might do some joint training, as it were,” Patrick suggested. “Neville will be dropping History of Magic this year for apprenticeship. I’m still fiddling with a curriculum that would ensure he has the knowledge he needs on the subject. If you and Harry plan similarly, perhaps we can collaborate.”

It was not unheard of for potions masters to engage in joint training, but it was not exactly usual. In a school the size of Hogwarts, it was unlikely that there would be more than 2 to 3 potions apprentices at the same time, and they were rarely in the same stages of their learning. For both Severus and Patrick to begin training at the same time with two pupils of the same age was rare.

“Hmm, yes,” Severus said, taking a biscuit. “I’m am quite open to joint training if you are. Certainly, I think Harry would benefit from it. And, as we discussed earlier, the two are familiar with each other, so it’s likely that they will do well.”

Patrick nodded. “I believe it could beneficial for all of us. There was nothing in negotiations with Harry’s family that might prevent the joint training? It was agreed to in the initial contract?”

Severus coughed and set his teacup back on the table. He’d not mentioned all of the details of the situation when he had been in conversation with Patrick previously.

“There were no negotiations,” he said, grimly. “The boy’s family was unfit, and when I took over his apprenticeship, I became his guardian, too. He’s living with me.”

“Ah,” Patrick said. “I am sorry for the boy that things came to that.”

He paused, looking as if he wanted to ask further questions or at least let Severus explain more, but when the other man left it at that, he held up his drink for a toast. Severus clanked his teacup against the glass with a small smile.

“Of course, I wish the best for the both of you,” Patrick said, taking a drink. Then he sighed. 

“I may be in a similar situation soon. Neville’s grandmother—a strong witch in her day—has taken a downward turn in health. She is his guardian at this time—has been since he was a young’n—but I’m not sure how much longer she’ll able to be.”

Severus nodded, saying, “That is a difficult situation.” 

“I guess we both may be fathers soon,” he said, and took a hefty drink.

Severus nearly choked as he swallowed.

*********************  
“That’s it. Feel your magic and guide it toward mine,” Severus said.

Harry squirmed in his seated position across from Severus and opened his mouth to speak.

“Hush. Don’t talk. Just breathe,” Severus said in a low, gruff voice that Harry had learned to associate with his meditating or concentrating intently. Sometimes the man concentrated so hard he barely moved his lips to speak, and it was a wonder that his words could still be so crisp, considering.

Harry bit his lip to keep himself from asking a question, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He let the question he was going to ask bounce in his head a bit along with his worry that this time he wouldn’t be able to complete the task, either. Then, feeling Severus anchored in front of him, he let the thoughts recede. With practiced technique, he grounded himself in the moment. Weeks of regimented meditation had taught him how to find and follow his breath, feel the dark gray rug beneath his legs, and sink his body and mind and magic into the here and now. Severus’ hands clasped his own, in a way that a few months ago, Harry could not have imagined anyone touching him. The man’s large hands wre warm and familiar Harry’s rector hummed with energy beside him, and his magic thrummed in response. 

Harry took inventory of his magic, the way it hummed out toward his limbs as pulsed at his core. Since beginning meditation, he had learned how to make sense of it, feel when it moved, what made it still, what made it feel most alive.

“That’s it,” Severus said, “Locate your magic and guide it. Don’t push.”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling his magic awash throughout his limbs. He concentrated on his forearms and imagined the tendrils of magic flowing slowly toward his hands, careful not to push too hard. 

“Almost there,” Severus said, giving his hands a light squeeze.

Harry directed the magic’s slow stream.

“Now, let it begin to pool,” Severus said.

Harry felt his magic collect at the base of his palms, noting how his hands felt slightly heavy. Severus did not have to remind him this time. Harry thought of feeling warm, not heat itself, and directed the thoughts toward the collection of magic trickling toward his fingers.

“You’re doing it,” Severus said after a moment. 

And Harry almost opened his eyes in surprise when he realized the heat at their hands was not only Severus’ but was his own. Both of their palms now felt radiant with heat. He’d done it! He’d done magical displacement, just like Severus had done the countless times when he touched Harry during a healing session or handled a particularly sensitive ingredient. It felt like he was carrying the sun.

He grinned and flexed his fingers over the older man’s hands. Maybe they’d make a potions master out of him, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew goes to a meeting where they plan a complex brew.

Severus was planning on a series of long brews next week—long brews that required more than one person and more help than Harry alone could provide. The benefit of having a more advanced apprentice or a potions craftswitch upskilling into the mastery, was an extra set of hands to help with particularly tedious projects. Severus had neither, so he had called on the help of Patrick Witherson to help with a brew that would take 3 days and 2 nights to complete.

Presently, Patrick, Severus, and their apprentices were in a meeting room at St. Mungo’s hospital with one head mediwitch, one potions craftswitch and one magical injury specialist. The room was larger than their needs, but their configuration at the sturdy wooden table in the center was comfortable. Light shone softly on their small gathering through a large skylight in the middle of the room. An impressive sculpture of the hospital’s emblem, a wand crossed with a bone, took up most of the wall Severus faced.  
Severus had been commissioned by St. Mungo’s to create a specific type of burn-healing paste that would not react adversely with Dreamless Sleep, Skele-Gro, or Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. It had previously been thought that such a burn-healing paste was impossible, due to the nature of ingredients involved in each. But after Severus had read a recent paper from a potions master in Nigeria on the neutralizing effect of bitter root on maw when combined with moonstone, he thought there might be a solution.

“The problem we have had previously is that maw is necessary for burn-healing paste, but it also neutralizes neem oil, which is present in Dreamless Sleep and Skele-Gro, and it exponentially increases the potency of ptolemy, which is necessary for Antidote to Uncommon Poisons,” Severus said. He was explaining more for Harry and Neville’s sake than anyone else’s. The boys sat quietly at the end of the large table in the room, in their potions journals as they had been instructed.

The adults at the table, were relaxed but professional. Severus, Patrick, and Craftswitch Chun-hei sat on one side, while Head Mediwitch Griffith, and Specialist Nkosi sat on the other. They were trouble-shooting any last problems before Patrick and Severus began the brew. Either way, they would be compensated for their labor, but it did work in the best interest of all if the burn-healing paste did, indeed, work out as they had hoped.

“What is the plan for anticipating moonstone’s effect on Dreamless Sleep?” Craftswitch Chun-hei asked.

“The idea is, we brew the initial base at a high temperature for at least 8 hours with a standard Elixir base. This will cause the proxene in the moonstone to evaporate. It is the proxene in moonstone that reacts adversely with the Aconite in Dreamless Sleep,” Severus said, glancing at his potions notebook before him. It was the notebook in which he had originally jotted down the idea and later fleshed out the theory.

“Unless you see an issue with evaporation of cowbane as well?” Specialist Nkosi asked.

“That is a concern,” Severus admitted, “We are planning on using a spelled lid to keep it in the cauldron, at least. However, we still can’t know how a long brew will affect the natural cooling process.”

They all nodded thoughtfully. The boys scrawled furiously.

Severus looked again at his notes in which he had pages of points, counterpoints, measurements, and hypotheses. As diligent as he was with his calculations, they would not know the result until the brew was complete and the paste was tested.

“Accomplishing this would make our lives easier,” the head mediwitch said. “Theoretically, it would mean burn-healing paste could be used in conjunction with all Class A mind-healing potions, all imbibed regenerative bone remedies, and the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons,” she said. “It would mean a great deal to us to be able to treat all simultaneously and not have to practice triage.” 

As usual, with potions theory, they would test with specific potions in mind first and then generalize to larger potions groups if possible. Research like this was some of Severus’ most challenging yet rewarding work.

Toward the end of the meeting the tone shifted to a more a serious one, as the adults began working out the contract for the new healing paste.

“—and the leading potions master—Master Severus Tobias Snape—will acquire the potions patent for the Substance at Hand. The aforementioned Medical Entity—St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries—will receive the medical patent for the Substance at Hand. If the leading potions master or the medical entity do not wish to oversee the production and distribution of the Substance at Hand, or use a proxy for such services, The Ministry of Magic will oversee those processes upon contracting,” The head mediwitch read in a voice that conveyed slight boredom. She pushed her bangs out of her face and asked, “Any problems, Master Snape?”

“No, the standard contract will be fine,” Severus said. He read over the contract once more before signing his name. After he done so, the head mediwitch signed the embossed parchment, too, and it immediately duplicated itself into smaller 2 smaller parchments that both of them pocketed.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” she said curtly. “Now, I’ll have to rejoin my rounds.”

Specialist Nkosi also pardoned herself to another meeting.

“You are looking well, Chun-hei. Better than the last time I saw you,” Patrick said, when the other two had left the room. He shook the young woman’s hand. He was referring to the fact that about a year ago she had left a rather difficult apprenticeship with an unpredictable potions master. It had certainly taken its toll. But after working at St. Mungo’s gaining the title of craftswitch, she now seemed healthier than before.

“Thank you,” Chun-hei said, “It’s been wonderful to work here. I always thought I might be on the research track but working in applied potions in a medical setting has been rewarding.”

“Craftswitch Chun-hei, I would like to introduce you to our apprentices,” Severus said, as he too, stood and gestured for the boys to come over. “This is Mr. Harry Potter, who is under my tutelage, and Mr. Neville Longbottom who is working with Patrick.”

“My such young apprentices!” Chun-hei exclaimed. “They must see great potential in each of you.”

Both boys blushed, and Harry stopped himself from hiding completely behind Severus’ tall frame.

“What did you think of the meeting?” Patrick asked the boys.

They both looked at each other with small smiles.

“It was—it was so cool!” Harry said, clearly trying to contain his excitement.

Neville nodded emphatically. “I took notes like you said, but I don’t know if I understand them,” he admitted.

Patrick and Chun-hei chuckled, while Severus cracked a smile.

“This is very advanced potions work, my boys,” Patrick said. “We would be worried if you did understand it all.”

The boys looked relieved.

“You also must remember that we, ourselves, are not sure we understand every component,” Severus said. “That is the practice of research. We are here to ask questions and test and discover.”

Harry nodded solemnly.

After a few more moments of chatter, they went their separate ways. Chun-hei had more duties to attend to, and Patrick took Neville back to his Gran’s before returning home, himself. Severus and Harry apparated back to their home to eat supper and wind down for the night.

When they were settled in their usual spots in the living room for evening journaling and meditation, Severus checked in with Harry once again.

“How did you enjoy the meeting?” he asked.

“It was brilliant,” Harry said. “You sounded wicked smart.”

Severus barely suppressed his started chuckle.

“Thank you,” he said. ‘You were attentive the entirety of the meeting, too. You did well.”

Harry blushed.

“I did have one question though,” Harry said, pulling out his notebook “Well I had a lot of questions, but I was wondering about the, um, craftswitch. Is she…is she like you and the other potions masters I’ve met? Why does she have a different name?”

“That is an insightful question,” Severus said. He paused before he answered. “There are different levels of, let’s say skills, that a person may have. You are an apprentice—a junior apprentice to be exact. Should you choose to continue, you would be promoted to a senior apprentice. Then in order to complete your mastery, you must do what is called upskilling. You can upskill in many different areas. Some choose potions theory; some choose potions application; some choose more specialized brewing techniques. And usually people move on from their original potions masters to complete their upskilling. After you finish upskilling it becomes a person’s choice—Harry? What is the matter?” Severus asked, noticing the boy’s distraught face.

“I—” the boy swallowed. “I have to leave you?” he asked. Tears pooled in his eyes.

“No, Harry, you do not have to leave me,” Severus said in a firm voice. He reached and patted the boy on the knee. Upon further thought, he kept his hand there, as said, “Technically you could complete upskilling with me, but by the time you are at this stage, you may want to leave. As my apprentice. Not my ward.”

Harry nodded, although he didn’t look convinced.

“We do not have to decide which path would be best for you now or even in the next few years, Harry. You would not possibly need to be upskilling until your seventh year at the earliest.”

Harry let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said softly.

When Severus felt the boy had collected himself enough, he picked up on his earlier explanation.

“After upskilling, a person becomes a craftswitch or wizard. That allows you to do many things, like work in a hospital like Miss Chun-hei does. To become a master you do all of that, some additional research work, and a final test. Then you are certified for more research-oriented work and you can have your own apothecary.”

Harry considered this a moment.

“So Miss Chun-hei couldn’t have her own shop—after all that?” Harry asked in disbelief.

Severus let slip a small smile and brushed some of his hair back.

“No, even after all that work she could not. She could easily work at an existing apothecary, but only licensed potions masters can start them."

Harry shook his head. “This is all so much.”

“I know,” Severus said. “And most of it doesn’t concern you in the slightest right now.”

Harry fell back into silent thought, and Severus realized he still had his hand on the boy’s knee. He returned his hand back to his own lap and said, “Why don’t you journal about that tonight—what you are thinking about with all you’ve learned today.”

Harry agreed and settled on the couch to reflect. Severus opened his own notebook to his calculations for the burn-healing paste and went over each figure again.

****************************************

The rest of the week, Patrick was in and out of the house, helping Severus with preparations for the test brew. He brought Neville on occasion. Sometimes they helped with some of the simpler and less-expensive ingredients—during which they were supervised carefully. (On several occasions, Severus and Patrick redid their work after they had gone.) Other times, the men let them go off and play within the bounds of the property. Both men felt that the boys were getting along well and seemed to be helping one another.

On Wednesday afternoon, the boys played exploding snap in the living room, while their masters worked in the lab. It was a modified deck that didn’t actually explode and so didn’t make that much noise. Severus had done the spells himself after Harry had mentioned that the noises sometimes scared him with other kids played it in the dorms.

“You beat me again!” Harry exclaimed, not the least bit upset about his defeat.

Neville smiled. “That was a good game Harry. You almost had me.” 

“How did you learn how to play so good? Your Gran?”

Neville squinted. “I don’t know. I think I might have learned from some other kids.” He searched his memory to no avail.

“Is, um, is she—how is your Gran?” Harry asked carefully. They had talked about her last time they had been together. And when Harry had asked Severus about it later, he had said the woman had “lived a long and fruitful life.”

Neville sighed.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Harry said, sensing his discomfort.

“It’s okay. She’s just in bed most of the time now, so we don’t get to do stuff together you know? Normally we’d be gardening together and cooking and stuff.” Neville gathered the cards and put them into their box.

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry there’s nothing Severus can do. He’s wicked smart at potions and things. So is Mr. Patrick.”

“It’s all right,” Neville said, even though it wasn’t.

“Hey, maybe if she likes gardening, we can pick some flowers for her,” Harry said with a smile. “There’s some bluebells that grow out back by the woods and some other stuff too. Would she like that?”

Neville smiled. “Yeah! Let’s get some.”

The boy left a note—as they had been instructed to—to let the men know they were leaving the house but not the property. In the sun on the walk through the back field, both Harry and Neville, felt some of their uneasiness lift away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long brew is complete and Harry returns home, but is acting suspiciously.

On the first day of the brew, Severus took Harry to Neville’s house for what turned out to be both of the boys’ first sleepover. After speaking with Neville’s Gran and looking over their home for himself, he approved of it, mostly because other options were limited, and Harry was excited for the experience.

He had spoken with Harry about his options earlier in the week. Severus hadn’t wanted Harry to stay in the house unsupervised for so many hours. But Harry also expressed concern at the idea of Severus acquiring a house elf to watch him for the next two days on such short notice. In general, the boy had very little knowledge of or exposure to house elves and seemed averse to the idea—likely because of the parallels between them and his old life.

Patrick—who was closely monitoring Neville’s home life—had assured Severus, that although Neville’s Gran had difficult days, she was still able to care for the boy and could handle two days with Neville and Harry together.

On the first day of the long brew, Severus had apparated with Harry to Neville’s home outside of the neighborhood’s apparition wards, and they had to walk a bit to the house itself. He had not event attempted the floo with Harry, considering his specific fears.

As they walked, Harry asked the same questions he had been asking for days.

“Do you still think you’ll be able to come get me on time?”

“Yes,” Severus said. “Every step of the brew has been carefully planned. And if not, I will make sure to send a note letting you know when I can come.”

“And I can send you a message?”

“Yes. Write on the parchment I spelled and it will get to me. It’ll be sent directly to the lab, and when I have a free minute, I will read it. Unless it’s—”

“An emergency,” Harry said with the man. “And then Neville and I are to inform his Gran and if we can’t we should tell their house elf Dodgy.”

“And?”

“And if we can’t reach Dodgy, we go his neighbor’s house and ask for help because you’ve worked with their nephew through St. Osha’s hospital, and Neville’s gran trusts them,” he recited.

“Good,” Severus said. “Not that we expect anything to go wrong, but we should always endeavor to be prepared.”

Severus had dropped off a tearful but brave Harry at 10:00 a.m. And at 12:00 p.m. sharp, he and Patrick were in the lab beginning the long brew. Severus felt his adrenaline rush, as he lit the fire with an incendio and reached for the first ingredients.

****************************************

Harry and Neville decided to play outside for most of their first day together. Unlike Harry’s new home with Severus, which was fairly remote and had sprawling land, Neville’s gran lived in a magical neighborhood that was warded against muggles. The houses were much less crowded together than the ones had been on Pivot Drive, but still, the neighbors were close by. As Neville and Harry walked down the street toward the small pond at the end of the road, Neville pointed out the houses and described who lived there.

“That lady Ms. Spencer is older than my gran. I’m pretty sure she taught Professor McGonagall in school,” he said snickering.

“No way,” Harry exclaimed.

“Yep, she’s ancient. And next to them are the Hadija’s. You know? Charlotte and Janae at school? They’re 5th year Gryffindors.”

“Really?” Harry asked. He was in shock.

Harry had previously thought little about how other students in his class had grown up. He’d spent so much time his first year trying to convince himself it was all real and then scrambling to catch up in classes, he hadn’t spent much time learning from his classmates about their lives. But to think that they had always grown up with magic, that they had grown up with each other—he couldn’t imagine such a life for himself.

“Yeah Mr. Hadija is from Morocco, and he makes amazing food, and their mom is wicked smart. She’s French and knows a million languages without magic. She’s a Head Witch of some department in the Ministry where she does political things with muggles.”

Harry couldn’t imagine what such things were. As far as he knew, no Muggles knew about the magical world, and he wasn’t sure what they would do if they did. Suddenly thinking about his own…past family, Harry asked, “Do you…do you think all muggles are bad?”

Neville gave Harry a funny look.

“I don’t really know any, so I don’t know what they’re like.” Then with a bit of hesitation, “You grew up with muggles right?

“Yeah, but I don’t think they were…normal. Or at least that’s what Severus keeps saying.”

“Oh right. Yeah, I wouldn’t know. I’ve lived here almost my whole life, and almost everyone’s a witch or a wizard.”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask another question, but then didn’t. Instead, he let Neville narrate stories about all of the people on the street. Harry felt like each person was someone he might have dreamed of only a year ago.

****************************************

On the first night, Patrick monitored the potions from 1:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. when they were to simmer, untouched for 3 hours. Severus took the opportunity to catch a quick nap, because he would need to up for the next 20 hours at least. Before heading next door to the testing and containment room, he took the parchment that was floating at eye-level by the doorway—Harry. The boy had written, as Severus had expected. His heart leapt in his throat, but he knew that it was not an emergency—just an update.

“Dear Severus, Nevile and me took a walk today and there’s a pond at the end of his street. We didn’t get in but we through rocks in it an d then we saw frogs. Neville said they are not magic but are there magic frogs. You don’t have to tell me now but I want to know some time. Neville’s Gran is nice and I am sleeping in Nevile’s room tonight . I have a bed. I hope the potion is doing what you want it to. Good night. -Harry.”

Severus sighed at some of the spelling errors but felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips at the boy’s curiosity. He quickly wrote back, and the went to catch a few hours of sleep.

****************************************

When Severus arrived to collect Harry on the third evening of the brew, the boy had not pounced on him, as he had expected. Instead, he shyly gave Severus a hug and then went to get his overnight bag.

“Did the potion turn out?” Neville asked, while Harry bounded up the stairs.

“It did,” Severus said. “I’m sure Patrick can tell you more about it when you meet for your lesson with him tomorrow.”

“Someday I’m gonna brew something that takes five whole days and Harry’s gonna help me.”

“Is that right?” Severus asked, as he noticed his heart beating rather loudly in his chest.

“Yeah, Harry and I swore that we would be like you and Patrick when we grow up.”

Severus peered down his nose at the boy.

“Well we didn’t really swear, not with magic or anything. But we promised.”

“You both have a long way to go before attempting anything of the sort,” Severus said.

After thanking Neville’s gran and saying goodbye, Harry walked with Severus to the end of the wards. When Severus grasped him tightly for the apparition, he heard Harry whisper, “I’m glad you came back.”

****************************************

Severus had a lie in the next day, as tired as he was from completing the brew. He was still disoriented when he woke to the alarm alerting him that someone had attempted to open the door of the potions lab on the first floor. Drawing on his lightweight robe over his dark pajamas, Severus grabbed his wand from his bedside and went to see what was going on.

He found Harry yanking at the door in the dark hallway, and as soon as the boy saw him, he stopped, stumbling backward.

“Harry, what—”

“I—I’m sorry! I was just…I was just curious. About the potion,” Harry said taking a step back.

Severus stayed where he was so as not to upset the child. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I understand that you may be curious, but you know that you’re not allowed to enter the lab by yourself.”

His voice was rough from sleep.

“I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

Harry looked ready to dart. Severus examined him from a distance, before asking, “Did you eat breakfast?”

Harry nodded.

“Because it didn’t look like you ate what I left on the table for you.”

“I did,” Harry said. “Not much but I ate.”

Severus gave him a long look, and the boy shifted his feet.

“Actually, I’m really tired cause me and Neville stayed up late. Do you think it would be okay if I went back to bed?”

Severus noticed that Harry was not looking him in the eye.

“Yes, you may.”

Harry practically sprung away from the man, walking away from him to take the curiously long way to his bedroom. Checking the wards on the potions lab, Severus made his way to the kitchen, where he sat at the table and had his own breakfast with a cup of coffee. He found that he desperately wanted to march up the stairs and into the boy’s room and ask him what was wrong, but instead decided to give him some space. It could be nothing. Perhaps excess nerves from being separated for a few days. He hoped nothing untoward had happened at Neville’s home and now felt the need to press it further. Attempting to clear his mind, Severus summoned his potions journal and entered his final thoughts on the long brew to close out the entry.

A few hours later, when Harry emerged from his room, he asked Severus if he could play in the backyard. From his seat in the living room, where he was reading a book, Severus took in the sight of the boy’s hunched shoulders and shifting gaze.

“Are you—” Severus paused and shook his head clear of the question. “Yes, you may, but don’t venture farther than the vegetable garden.”

The boy turned to leave.

“And I was hoping that we could prepare dinner together tonight,” Severus said. “Perhaps catch up on the last few days.”

Harry nodded and made a dash for the door.

Outside, he went to the back of the house. It really was a bright day and late afternoon, so the sun felt oppressive. Harry had put on one of his long sleeved shirts in the morning because he was chilled. Now, he went looking for shade—a sprawling plum tree a few meters away from the vegetable garden. It didn’t have the fullest coverage, but, as he leaned against the scratchy trunk he felt some reprieve.

Harry cracked his knuckles and felt a twinge of pain. He took a few deep breaths, counted to three, and tenderly lifted his shirt up to look at his stomach where he was met with four galleon-sized raised red bumps on the light skin. Harry jerked the shirt back down and fought back panic. Last night, there had only been two.

He was sick. No, he was dying. And who wanted to take care of a dying kid?

Surely not Severus, who hadn’t signed on for that. As he understood it, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley couldn’t take him back. Patrick was surely too busy with work and with Neville. He didn’t know anyone else. Maybe Professor Sprout could just let him live in the school.

Harry rested his head on the tree behind him and tried to get his breath under control, like Severus had taught him in meditation until he felt like the world was no longer spinning. Severus would not want to send him away, but Harry knew that the man needed time and space for his work. He wouldn’t have time to take care of him if he was dying. Harry would pack up his things now, just so Severus didn’t have to do that, too, and be burdened with the work.

When Harry entered the house about an hour later, Severus was in the potions lab. The note on the table told Harry to knock if he wanted to come in and that there were snacks available should he want any.

Harry was hungry, since he had skipped breakfast, but he went to his room instead, where he began packing things in his trunk. He had meant to do it all as quickly as possible but soon found himself slowed by his shaking hands and pounding heart. Tears blurred his vision, as he set in his carefully folded trousers, pants, and shirts on top of his school robes and shoes. Almost everything he had was because of Severus. A few months ago, he could never have imagined having such nice things.

In went his stack of books and his socks and the soft robe he wore often during nighttime journaling and meditation time. He would miss that. He supposed he could still do those things wherever he ended up next. Harry was moving to clear out the small drawer in his bedside table when stopped and looked at his rector sitting on top of it. 

Harry James Potter: Water Affinity: Apprentice.

Harry held the rector with shaking hands and scooted his way back into his closet, where he wrapped his arms around his knees and cried. He would never be a potions master. He would never brew something long and complicated with Neville like he promised. He would never get his mastery or make more friends at Hogwarts. All things he hadn’t dared hope for or even known to hope for months ago. But here he was, feeling the weight of crushed hopes—something he tried to avoid for most of his life by not hoping at all.

That is where Severus found him a half an hour later, when he had called Harry’s name and pushed open the door at the sound of the boy’s cries.

“Whatever is the matter?” Severus asked, stepping fully into the room, taking in the disheveled state of the room, the half-packed trunk.

Harry shook his head and stuffed his face further into his arms. He’d been crying so hard, his head now hurt and his nose was stuffy and full of pressure.

Bewildered, Severus moved to touch him, and then instead, stepped back, and kneeled in front of him.

“Are you injured?”

Harry’s breath hitched and he shrugged his shoulders.

“You are? You are hurt?” Severus asked, more urgently this time.

When he didn’t answer, Severus commanded that he give one.

“I’m not—hurt. I don’t know it doesn’t hurt—yet. I don’t know.”

“What doesn’t hurt?” Severus asked, now standing. The edge to his voice made it seem louder.

Harry sniffed and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow. Holding his arm up, he turned his face away so that he wouldn’t see the man’s face when he saw how disgusting he was.  
Severus held the proffered arm gently by the wrist and rolled it slightly to see the large red circular mark on the boy’s arm. A thousand questions flew through Severus mind, as he tried to quash his own anxiety and think clearly through the situation.

The boy was breathing. He was talking. He was lucid. He had at least one mark on his arm. He was not in pain, or so he said.

“What—Harry, what is this? How long has this been here?”

Harry tugged his arm back and rolled the sleeve back down. He wiped at his face and finally glanced up at his guardian before looking back down again.

“I think I’m dying,” he said softly, wiping at his face. “I started getting them last night. I’m sorry I know you probably didn’t want a sick kid.” 

Severus was down again, kneeling in front of him.

“Harry why would you think—wait, you have more? There are more?”

Harry nodded.

“Show me,” Severus said, voice stern.

Harry looked as if he would refuse, but after a few beats, uncurled himself and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Replacing his glasses, he cracked his knuckles before lifting his shirt up and over his head.

Even from the boy’s seated position, Severus could see the sporadic dots on the boy’s thin frame, from his torso to his upper arms. He requested that Harry sit on the bed, so he could get a better look, and Harry obeyed, feeling like his feet were heavier than usual. Once there, Severus noticed a few more spots on his back, in addition to a few older scars here and there that he and Poppy had been unable to heal.

Harry’s tongue felt like lead, but he opened his mouth anyway, to say, “I’m sorry I’m sick. I know you probably don’t want—”

Severus hushed him, as he concentrated on the boy’s body. He lightly ran his fingers along a few of the marks on his back. They were uniform, slightly raised, dark pink in hue. Severus could feel no overt magic coming from them. He took his wand from its holster and commanded the boy to stay still while he muttered a few spells under his breath and checked for possible curses.

After a moment, Severus asked, “Are they anywhere else? Your legs? Your bum?”

When Harry nodded, Severus sighed, as if he were deeply tired. He was, he realized, still feeling drained of energy from the adrenaline and execution of the long brew. Kneeling in front of Harry again, Severus thought before he spoke.

“To address, this in order of severity, I will start with the confirmation that you are not dying, Harry. Whatever this is, is not life-threatening.”

He paused to let the information sink in.

“Second, you will be staying here, regardless of your health status. So, all of this,” he gestured to the disheveled room, “was unnecessary.” He stood and paced a few steps across the room. “And I wish—I wish you would have talked to me instead of hiding this. Harry, this is what I am here for. To take care of you, to help.”

He wanted to say more but stopped himself. Harry had a fresh batch of tears welling in his eyes and looked incredibly fragile.

“Come, you need a bath in an all-cure soothing agent, and I need to firecall Ms. Longbottom and decipher if Neville is experiencing similar symptoms.”

He led Harry to the bathroom, where the boy stripped to his pants and let Severus look at his body one more time while the bath filled with warm water. Severus took the boy’s temperature and felt his glands and ran a few more diagnostic spells. Before Harry stepped in, Severus poured a bottle of a blue liquid in the tub that turned a light gray when it hit the water. Harry could tell Severus was in an unusual mood, because he didn’t even explain what the potion was or what it was supposed to be doing. He just directed Harry to get in and sit still while he went downstairs.

While Severus was gone, Harry swirled his hand in the water, finally feeling the last grips of panic release his chest. He wasn’t dying. He was just sick with something, and Severus would figure it out. He could stay here. He could still be an apprentice. Harry repeated this in his head to assure himself that it was true.

After ten minutes, Severus came back into the bathroom with a few more standard-size potion bottles in hand. He had removed his robe and was only in a button-down shirt and trousers. 

Setting the bottles on the sink counter, he summoned a low stool from the kitchen that Harry sometimes used to reach the highest shelves. Harry thought the man’s legs looked enormous, all scrunched up close to the floor like that.

Severus rolled his sleeves up, as he spoke quietly. “Mr. Longbottom is not experiencing the same symptoms as you. But it does appear that you both went to a lake near his house when you were there, correct?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah and there’s a boy from school who lives on the street who came with us, and his big brother watched us.” Harry knew that Severus didn’t let him swim unsupervised.

“There is a type of pondweed that grows in that pond that is common in bodies of water with magical flora and fauna.”

Harry looked confused. The pond didn’t seem magic to him. It had just seemed like a normal pond to him.

“Most witches and wizards are exposed to this pondweed earlier in their childhood and then are immune for life. It seems you’ve had your first contact with it. It is not poisonous. It simply reacts adversely with the skin and causes mild discomfort.”

He paused, waiting for any questions.

When none came, he explained each of the potions on the counter as he dropped them into the bath. Like his own mother had done for him, Severus gently washed Harry’s body, paying special attention to the inflamed skin. When they were done, he dried the boy off and inspected the spots, which already seemed to be shrinking. After Harry was changed, Severus led him into the living room, where he laid a blanket over him and spelled some calming tea for them both. He surveyed Harry, who looked small but cozy on the couch across from him.

“I think you’ve had a rather stressful day,” Severus said.

“Yeah.”

“Or a rather stressful two days, since you swam at approximately 3 p.m. on Thursday and the effects would have been apparent within a few hours after that,” Severus sipped his tea.

Harry was silent.

“And you did not inform Ms. Longbottom or me of your ailment.”

“No,” Harry’s voice was small.

“Which was irresponsible, because it could have been very serious. And you could have been placing yourself in further danger. You could have been placing Neville in danger. Did you think about that?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“And going into the potions lab to take Merlin-knows-what to cure something which you have not yet identified would have placed you at an even greater risk,” the man said. Then after a moment, “What should you have done?”

“I—I should have,” Harry swallowed. “I should have told you I was sick.”

“Before or after you packed your bags to leave?”

Harry winced.

“Before, sir.”

After a few moments, Severus said, “I know that you have a hard time telling me things when you are worried. That is understandable, given your past circumstances. But I want you to know that you can tell me Harry, and if it’s difficult to tell me verbally, then you can write to me, and if it’s difficult to write, then you can—I don’t know—gesture to me. But, Harry, you need to tell me when you are hurt. Because I cannot help you if I do not know. Can you do that next time? Can you promise to tell me if you are unwell in any way?”

Harry felt a few tears spill out of his eyes. The mix of potions Severus had bathed him in had somehow relieved his headache, but his eyes still felt scratchy and sore.

“Yes, sir, I will try. I promise.”

Severus looked less pained, having heard the promise aloud. The rest of the evening, as they talked quietly, ate dinner, and settled down for the night, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made Severus sad. If keeping this promise would keep that from happening again, Harry thought he might be able to do it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Harry visit a mindhealer clinic

Severus and Harry were in the waiting room of a local mindhealer office, where the staff specialized in pediatric care. Harry had been gripping Severus’ hand since the moment they sat down, and Severus could not say that he wasn’t gripping back. He was out of his depth in a place like this, having never participated in mindhealing himself. Of course, he was used to working with healers in general, but this was a new experience for the both of them.

There were a few toys, both muggle and magic, in the center of the room, and Severus had invited Harry to play with them, but the boy had not wanted to move. As with any new encounter, he had asked Severus for reassurance several times, and Severus had patiently explained again and again the process: They would have separate intake interviews followed by an intake interview together. Then they would apparate home, eat a hearty lunch, and practice a short brew into the late afternoon. 

When the staff led them to different rooms, he thought Harry would not let go of his hand, but with some coaxing, Harry was pried away into a room next door with a dark-haired middle-aged healer with stylish glasses named Thea. Severus was meeting with a mindhealer named Mohammed whom he had met with briefly before to schedule their first official meetings.

“Good morning, Healer Mohammad,” Severus said and took a seat where the healer gestured after their handshake.

“Good morning, Master Snape.”

Severus noticed that the healer did not sit behind the desk but rather in a chair across from him, looking comfortable, with his legs crossed. Severus was unable to make himself seem at ease.

“Welcome, and thank you for coming for your intake appointment. I know making it this far often means people have crossed many barriers.”

Severus shook his head. Where to begin? Hadn’t everything seemed like a barrier up until this point? Isn’t that why he was here?

“I—I must admit I am out of my depth,” Severus said. “I have never seen a mindhealer before. Harry is my first. I have not been a guardian before. I was anticipating challenges, but I fear I am not well-equipped to give Harry what he needs.”

“And what is it you believe he needs, Master Snape?”

“Severus, please. And I believe he needs a type of healing I am unable to provide.”

“Which is?”

“Mind healing. Something. He needs guidance. Support. Something beyond what I am able to give from my own limited experience as a son myself. My parents both died young. I was an orphan at 17, but thank Merlin I had a Master who was able to step in. I don’t—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry I do not believe I am being as direct as possible. Harry needs someone to listen to him, who is not me. And that person should help him make sense of the world. He is still very new to living a life with some compassion and decency. He is still much more used to abuse and starvation and neglect.”

“Yes, you spoke with me about Harry’s past. Why don’t we review those details so we have an accurate baseline? Shall we?”

They went over the details of Harry’s past—what Severus knew, what the muggles had confessed at their trial, what Harry had confided, and what Severus had inferred. They agreed that Harry was a survivor of physical and medical neglect, as well as physical, emotional, and verbal abuse. Severus suspected other types of abuse and neglect as well but did not have confirmation.

True to his meticulous nature, Severus had a small notebook with him to take notes and to make sure he did not forget things he wanted to tell the healer. 

“And what are your biggest challenges with Harry right now?”

Severus mentioned Harry’s fear of fire and the challenge that that posed for them as master and apprentice. After a moment, he added, “It is rather challenging to convince him that he is safe with me.”

He thought of all the problems that spurred from this central theme. “It feels like he has one foot out of the door, ready to go running back to those blasted relatives because he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything more.”

“And what else?”

“I find it…challenging to understand what he needs on a daily basis. Some days he is most clingy and other days it is like he wants to be alone. He is used to a solitary life, as am I, I suppose. His only experience of being around others, living with them, was his first year at Hogwarts. Other than that, his Aunt had him bouncing from house to house for work as soon as he was able. Before that, I do not think he was made to feel welcome in his home.”

“That’s good to know. Healer Thea is asking Harry similar questions, so we will see what he feels his greatest challenges are, too. My next question is about you, Severus. What systems of support do you have?”

“Me?” Severus looked surprised, into the man’s dark eyes.

“Yes, people who you lean on, people who might help you with raising Harry. It takes a village as they say.”

Severus paused, slightly taken off guard by the question.

“I must admit I am a fairly private man. I have a working relationship with another potions master, Master Patrick Whitherson who is also newly mastered to an apprentice who is Harry’s friend. I am also in contact with Harry’s Head of House Pomona Sprout.”

“All right, and any other friends or family?”

“None that come to mind as…support, as you say.”

“Having at least a few people to be in contact with is a good start, Severus. And it might be good to start thinking about how to expand your network in the months and years to come. This will likely happen naturally, as you’ve added another member to your family who will form his own connections in time.”

Severus scribbled in his notebook, looking pensive. His solitary nature had not been a problem until now. He would have to think of ways to connect to other people.

“And what are your strengths?”

“Strengths in…parenting?”

“Just things that you consider yourself to be good at.”

“Well, potions theory first and foremost, aided by my affinity. Secondarily, I am adept at applied potions. And generally, my problem-solving skills are likely more refined than most.”

“And what are some of the strategies that you’ve used so far in Harry’s parenting? These can be things that you think have worked or things that you might want to change in the future.”

“Hmm, I have read a few books on parenting which have been helpful. And I am his master, as you are aware. The Potions Master Guide Book has several things to say on the matter. I like to give him independence in small areas, such as choosing his clothing and meals. He is also able to choose what he does with his afternoons and parts of his evenings.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“As his master, we do collective meditation and journaling to get him more attuned to his affinity and clear his mind for work. This is likely a strategy of parenting, too, I should say.”

“Meditation is an excellent skill. And does Harry enjoy this or is it more of a struggle for him?”

“I believe journaling is more enjoyable for him, but he improves each week with his meditation practice. And occasionally, he chooses to do more, himself at night before bed.”

“That’s good. It sounds like a tool that’s working for him right now. What about things that you do based on his past. Is there anything there?”

“That is the trickiest, as I am not always sure how to approach matters. I employ some of the strategies in the books I’ve read. I try to point out differences between his old home and our home. I allow him to speak about his past but do not force him. I reassure him quite a bit.”

“How often is quite a bit? Daily?”

“Hourly,” Severus sighed. “Sometimes it feels like by the minute. Like today, he asked no less than 5 times to repeat what we would be doing here. I do not believe he actually forgot but that he wanted to hear it again.”

“All right, that’s good to now, Severus. It sounds like he is struggling with certainty and predictability, which is understandable.”

“Yes,” Severus said. “I have him on a schedule that aligns with mine, but I work full time. Since taking him in, I have lightened my load, but I will need to return to my full-time status in order to provide for us. And he will return to school. And it seems that as soon as we reach an equilibrium this summer, we will again have to change what is working.”

“And that seems difficult.”

“It seems impossible, Healer Mohammad,” Severus said gravely.

Mohommad nodded and looked through his documents a few more times.

“Well, our job will be to make that seem less impossible. It seems like both you and Harry are going through some very difficult challenges in your life right now,” the Healer said. “You are new to being a single guardian. Harry is new to being a son. And on top of that, you are his master, and there are other obligations and duties that arise with such a position.”

Severus agreed.

“We would love to continue seeing Harry here at least once a week. As you know, we specialize in pediatric mindhealing, but I would also recommend that you begin mindhealing or join a support group for people in similar situations, as you also need support right now. I can recommend a few places.”

“That would be appreciated,” Severus said.

After writing down the recommended agencies and centers, they set some immediate and long-term goals for Severus and Harry, before Severus was led into the room where Harry was. They would stay in the room, while the mindhealers consulted one another, compared notes, and would then re-enter to talk with them together.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Severus asked. This room was notably brighter, with some plushies and art materials on the kid-sized desks.

Harry hugged him and sat down on his lap.

“Is that a yes?” He brought his hand up to the boy’s forehead.

“Yes.”

“Was Healer Thea kind?”

Harry nodded.

“Are you feeling okay? Anything else to add?”

“It feels like—like a lot,” Harry said rubbing his chest.

“Overwhelmed then?”

Harry agreed.

“Don’t worry, out meeting with them won’t be long, and then we can get some lunch in us. Did you draw this, Harry?” Severus asked, reaching for the colored picture on the table next to him.

“Yes, sir.”

“May I look at it?”

Harry gave the man permission, and then explained what he drew.

“That’s Mrs. Baker’s shed,” 

“Is it now? Did you…spend much time at Mrs. Baker’s?”

“She lived all the way at the end of town and had a big yard. I never did her yard, but her shed was always open so I stayed there a lot when I—when I couldn’t go to auntie’s house.”

“Hmm,” Severus said. “It looks like you drew a rainbow which is nice.”

“Oh, it was nice there. There wasn’t anyone around, and she had old blankets and stuff in there.”

A short hum of acknowledgment was Severus only response, as he placed the picture back on the table.

When the healers returned, Harry scrambled for his own chair, but they let him know it was okay to stay in Severus’ lap.

“Well Mr. Snape and Mr. Potter, it seems as if you’re ready to start all this mindhealing business, huh?” Healer Thea said.

“We know it’s new territory for you both, but we think it will be very beneficial for Harry to continue seeing us every week.”

“Do you like that idea, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry gave a shy nod.

“Excellent, well we think that you can continue meeting with me, Mr. Potter.” Healer Thea said. “And we can incorporate some of the things you’re already doing at home like journaling and meditation. And we can also explore new things that you might like just as much, like the coloring you did today.”

“I liked your picture, Harry. It might be nice to make some more,” Severus commented.

“I liked it too,” Harry said.

“Brilliant,” Healer Mohammad said. “Every week, we’ll give you something to work on that might be like that picture, and then we’ll come and have a chat about it. How does that sound?”

“Will you get to come?” Harry asked, turning toward Snape.

“I will not. It will be a private session with you and Healer Thea. But Healer Thea will let me know generally how things are going.”

“That’s right, Harry. We get to have our own conversations, so you can feel comfortable with sharing with me. And it doesn’t have to always be things about your past. We can also talk about how you’re doing now or what you’re looking forward to in the future.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He seemed apprehensive, but not cowed, which Severus took as a win.

The group went over the short and long-term goals that he and Harry had articulated and bridged them together to make an initial plan of sorts. They collectively decided that it would be appropriate if Harry continued seeing them, even after his return to Hogwarts in the fall. It would be easy enough for Severus to meet with Harry at Hogwarts and then apparate to the clinic.

Before leaving, Healer Thea gave Harry his first homework assignment, which was a small worksheet booklet that he was to fill in, color, and bring back. It was a self-reflection booklet that would allow Harry to describe himself and his experiences through short fill in the blank statements and pictures that would appear based on his answers.

Severus apparated them back to the house, where he quickly reheated their shepherd’s pie. Harry ate more than usual, but looked exhausted, so Severus sent him for a short nap. When he woke an hour later, they began a short brew, as Severus had promised.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in 2016 & never finished. I'm considering revisiting it, so it may go further but it may not. Please enjoy what I have finished in the meantime.


End file.
